by M. Halyard

Created on: May 23, 2008   Last Updated: June 14, 2008

Cast off the lines, chuck them on a weatherbeaten dock,
And let us turn our faces to the wind.
Away from traffic, away from an inviolable clock
And towards a beckoning blue horizon.

Now pause as we point directly to the wind;
To the mast we scramble and sort rigging;
Fasten the main, crank the winch around, and then
Up she goes, bright white flowing curtain.

Fall off, and lean, and our vessel takes a bow,

Unfurl this massive jib, and check its balance;
Suddenly released, our sailboat surges forward and we allow
A passing wave to splinter; salt spray splatters us.

Whoosh! We're really moving! watch the water rush
With bubbles dancing, darting in our wake;
We grin and listen to the gentle shush
Along the waterline from Poseidon's lake.

A rhythm takes us soon, and over the tops of little hills we tumble
To a moment's breath, and then we rise again
Upon another shining wave, another scramble,
And another dip of the rail into the ocean.

Emboldened by rising seas and stronger gusts of wind,
We dare to seek the sailors' holy grail:
The perfect tack, the quintessential jibe,
The rush of merging minds with bodies in an ancient tale.

Sunburned and tired, we finally turn downwind
And revel in the peaceful late day's calm;
Sunset spreads its cream and purple wings, and we rescind
Our pleasures to the sea and steer towards home.

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