Sharp
prows slice up the waves
an
artic morning sailing day.
Chill
wind and icy spray
to
sweep a tingling face
and
tingling legs glued to a
soaring
deck.
No
miracle in walking when you
fly
across the water in close-haul!
An
artic morning sailing day
and
cups of tea.
Gulped
steaming in a cockpit -
hand
on tiller hand keeping ropes
from
thrashing free, how
can
a motor
on
a grey strip thrill if yachts
tack
freely on a boundless sea?
The
agitated wake astern she
courses
on at ease.
An
arctic morning sailing day
may
find a breeze, skipping past rigs
-
stings ruddy cheeks bared
in
elation.
Skin turned a hue of blue
to
match the beryl of the seas.
From
place to place a soundless
glide
dictated by the shore.
The
tide - the fog cut through
with
enterprise
of
wind and will and yachting skill
to
sail where a sailor likes.
All to a harbour leagues away,
An
arctic morning sailing day.
