Becalmed in that sun-blasted hulk
we languished in the dog days.
The flat sea was like glass.
for our old life to return.
We prayed for the sighing rain
or a line of green on the horizon.
Suddenly a cry came: land ahead.
The sky cracked and, slowly at first
the wind pushed like an old friend, the shed.
The moisture that we had sought
blessed our cracked lips like a sacrament.
I looked about at the scorched grass
the flagstones that fire had burned
and the skeletons of lupins and spent lavender.
