On Tobago
For the first week he lay around,
drying out,
soaking up the sun
sleeping under the palms
opening a coconut or two
catching fish with twine and a pin
wallowing in leisure and blessed
simplicity
On the eighth day he sculled
to the reef and tilted wreck.
cut canvas for clothes
then more for shelter
and, anxious now,
some for repairs
Next day he
brought back flour
huge bloody bags of the stuff
more flour than a man
could use in a lifetime and,
struck by a thought as he ate
from a calabash bowl
went back next day
for a knife and fork, spoons,
a plate or two from the galley
and came back loaded down
Not with the cracked stained pieces from the galley
but the skipper's prized silver and china
kept behind glass in his cabin.
Also a plush lined chair that could have been built for him
a tricorn hat
and as an afterthought
some golden coins from the desk.
You never knew.
On the next day,
which turned out to be
the last one.
he found where the rum
was stored
The barrels floated placidly before him to the shore.
The gentle surf nudged them up the beach
Later
seated in the plush chair,
Crusoe cracked one open
and toasted the setting sun
by Ron Baynes
Copyright 2009
Ron is a freelance writer from Ottawa, ON. The semi-retired public relations executive is President of Baynes Communications there and when not writing poetry, he's heavily involved in short story writing.
