Men, Boat, And Sea

Men are quick to adventurize, try

To capture something too personal,

Our ten mile sail down Chesapeake

From Kilmarnock to Stingray Pt.

Becomes an all-day venture into

Primal forces, men, boat, and sea.

 

Boat soon finds its own way round

Its inner wind, its own private stream,

Tugging at its very own heart and

Sounding out the sea poem it wants

Us to hear, wants to go overboard

To bathe in every drop of salt spray.

 

From a cabin cruiser another wave,

A slow-poured vision of peach

Whose snake of arm communicates

A desire to touch on the high seas.

She makes her passing wake

A greater pleasure to come about in.

 

But, we only show off for old salts

Those gray-eyed sea veterans who

Know both the calm and the storm

And how it comes from the beam,

That sterner stuff our keel knows

When adventure suddenly strikes.

 

Someday when we are leathery as

Old chamois skins left in the sun

We can cite poetry word for word,

Describe pride and terror in a jibe,

Own every cry the sea swallows or

Each joy in full sail, set wing on wing.