August Thirteenth

It’s been a while since a sailing star flirted with me,

but tonight the Perseids outdid one another.

They’re not falling, they’re swinging on rigging and leaping from poop deck to gunwhale and flashing their cutlasses and swashing and buckling.

The Perseids are absolute showoffs, and every one of them wants to be Errol Flynn.

Some are sweet, some a quite edgy,

But some, yes, some are heroes.

I see you, rouguish knight. My pen is ready.