The Oarsman's Chant

White caps dance with joy,

and the belly of our sail becomes fulsome.

I hurry home to my love’s sweet embrace

to the chant of the oarsmen,

okeman is coming

okeman weaves the purple waves of angry breath

okeman is prince of all he surveys

okeman sighs

okeman dies

okeman is the eternal passing.

happy is okeman.

                               © niall oconnor 2015