The Plank People

By Sue Cowing

Sue Cowing

I’m on the dock, waiting for the sun

to rise over Koko Head and the bay.

Alone as usual, but not alone.

The plank people are here.

They stare unblinking,

not at horizon, not at me or anything

in particular. Their expressions

not blank, but still, aware.

Whether clouds overhead are gray or fair,

whether the tide runs high or low,

all the plank people ever say is, “Oh.”