11 October 08

North Pacific

Gray skies last for days.

No birds, no whales, lifelessness.

Every day the same.

or if you prefer

The skies, a blanket, an expanse, one coloration: only grays.

The birds, they're gone; the whales, now southward; here desolation.

The days, the same; the watches, all regular, at sea: mundanity.