by Chris Rodgers

There is still no sign of him; his sailboat
washed up after the storm complete
with lifejacket and mystery. Two vessels
en route to Lagoon City to dry dock for winter

separated. One by motor made it,
and his, under sail, trusting the wind,
sought one last thrill. That’s just the way
he was, so certain of God’s protection

and his home in heaven. The search
stopped as darkness fell. It will resume
today in the glorious fall light until they find
the body. She kept saying

she just wanted to see him one more time.
What would you say that one last time
if you could? Would you be sorry for something,
or explain why things had or hadn’t been so,

as if you knew, or would you just gaze
into one another for a long moment, two
vessels soon to be separated and emptied
adrift on an unknowing silence?

— from Juniper Volume 1, Issue 1