Virgin Gorda

Lounged beachside at The Bitter End Yacht Club
most of the morning, turquoise water, sandsandsand,
palms, tropical hills rolling up from the surf.
I didn't want to leave. The earth felt so welcoming,
so certain. Although this ship is quite amazing,
it's a bit like trying to manoeuver a gentle earthquake
when walking anywhere. Side to side, back and forth.
I've taken to crashing into posts (discreetly, though).
So pleasant to do mostly nothing except eat and read.
Discovered the most perfect, plain sweet roll
at the breakfast buffet this morning, a simple twist,
a hint of glaze, a perfect eggy dough. Unpretentious,
barely sweet. Glammed it up with some unsalted
butter. Ate two. Wanted so many more.
Didn't find Nina, but we sure tried.
Paul said to me at lunch, "what day is it?"
I wasn't sure. There are no days here.