Scherzo
The sky bristles
With the masts of tired ships
Anchored in the oily water of the harbor.
Soot, smoke,
And the constant racket –
A cacophony of metallic clanging,
As barge and battle boat
Pass one another
In separate service.
All is left
In the churning wake
As the dull gray metal vessel
Cuts the swell,
Bearing south:
The expeditionary force
Of Robert Falcon Scott.
A whale surfaces
And shoots a welcome
Volley of water
Into the chilled, raw air.
Penguins process,
Chaplinesque,
Like impatient dinner guests,
Flapping and squawking
On the colorless surface
Of their white waiting room.
Beyond the ship
Sea birds swoop,
Weaving white patterns
Over the frozen fallow
That is their quest.
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