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.