You turned to me where you stood on the shore
Among your men and smiled
I laid my hand against my cheek
And stared back like a child
Your eyes, their harsh green light-your hair
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Blown back in dark gold strands
Were the emerald drench of ocean
The sun's fist on the sands
Strong winds and hours of afternoon
Had slept on your arms and hands
That had the hot and silky look
Of amber from far lands
When sunset brought your fleet back in
You stood in the bow at case
When the first ship crossed the tidal swell
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Penn Fires Stiegman; No Successor Named
