Wednesday, 6 March 2013

Celebrating Elation

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.

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