Poetry is hard to pin down.We think we know it when we see it, but struggle when we try to define it.
"Songs" are obviously not prose. For one thing, they are musically rhythmical, Mountain Sailor,is a song in 2/4 time. Think of the first two syllables ("On . . . A")as the "pickup" to a "downbeat" -- ("greygloom"). The last line is in triple time.
The pieces in this section celebrate the outlier, the solitary individual coping patiently, proudly, unapologetically with its environment. They were written during stressful times in my life when I felt abandoned and alone, trying to deal bravely in the face of adversity. Today, I see a younger version of myself marshalling my powers of detachment (the sentinel), to fill my soul with optimistic songs of survival.
On . . .
A greygloom day in Autumn,
Draped . .
In drippy, drizzly rain,
I see a crowd of greengrey pine trees
Glooming round a lone gold maple.
Just . . .
A sailor, gold in oilskins,
Adrift on a greengloom sea,
Patiently . . .
Awaiting . . .
The Northerly bluster of Winter.