This is what I am calling this poetry form until someone shows me that it already exists and has another name.
Painting ©Vanimmerseel
Becalmed on this sea,
we watch the sky for cloudfall,
stalled and immobile,
while hands clasp tight.
Night comes and no wind blows,
flows the tide into the dawn.
Born again in sunlight,
flight springs,
wings spread to fly,
sky calls us home.
Foam-flecked, we rise and find
behind is left all harm,
becalmed on this sea.