A TASTE OF THE SEA
A poem for my friend Robert Burt
A TASTE OF THE SEA
IT IS NEAR DAWN! …. 6.42,
A SAILOR STARTS EARLY, EXCEPTING FEW…
MORE OFTEN THAN NOT… FOR ME… UNFORTUNATLY TRUE!
BUT I DO… WHAT I HAVE TO DO.
THE DECK SPARKLES BEJEWELLED WITH A SLICK MORNING DEW,
AS WE SET ABOUT WHAT IT IS WE NEED TO PURSUE…US…I MEAN ME THE SINGULAR CREW!
WE HOIST THE SAILS, MAKE READY AND SET,
OUR HOMEWARD MARK THIS DAY WE ARE HEADED WITHOUT FRET,
A LONG REACH… ACROSS AN EXPANSE OF WIDE OPEN SEA,
IN A MIST AS THICK AS SHARK OIL BEFORE A STORM MIGHT VERY WELL BE,
…AND A CHILL RUNS THROUGH TO THE BONE,
THE PREVIOUS NIGHTS EXCESSIVE LIBATIONS… STILL TO BE ATONED.
MY WATCH…TO STAND AT THE BOW,
SURVEY THE HORIZON IN NEAR DARKNESS SOMEHOW.
SO WITH EVERY NERVE IN KEEN SENSORY PEAK,
I WAS TO GUIDE US THROUGH THIS WRETCHED FREAK…
OF NATURE!...BUT HOW?
THIS MORNING WAS DIFFERENT I THINK.
A RUNNING TIDE FLOWS HEAVILY AGAINST OUR HULL,
LIKE A LEAD WEIGHT OR UNWHITTING FLIGHT OF A GULL.
FIGHTING… AGAINST THE WIND IN AN UNEXPECTED SUMMER SQUALL,
BUT WAS CERTAINLY NOT… NOT MOVING AT ALL!
THE SKIES A SHEET OF SOLEMN GREY DROLL
IN STARK CONTRAST TO OUR SHINY BLUE YAWL,
AS WE SET OUT ON THIS MYSTERIOUS DAY,
IN EARNEST WE MAKE OUR FOG LIT AWAY.
THE SEA MOVING LIKE GLOSSY MOLTEN CLAY OF TRANLUSCENT BLUISH GREENS AND GREY,
THE MORNING AIR FILLED WITH TINY DROPLETS HANGING AS IF SUSPENDED… I WOULD SAY.
WITH WAXED CLARITY UNDULATING IN SOFT RHYTHM AND TIME,
THE LIGHT WINDS PLAY HAVOC ON TELLTALES… NOT GIVEN BY MINE!
WITH ONE LEG RESTING ON THE PROW SAFETY RAIL,
MY BODY LEANING, STRETCHING AGAINST THE FORESTAY JIB SAIL,
I AM IN TUNE WITH ALL I SURVEY,
IN AN EXTENDED BUT LIMITED… SORT OF WAY!
AND…I LISTEN TO THE SONG OF THE SEA…
AS WE SLICE THROUGH EVERY WAVE… IN RHYMIC MOTION OF THREES,
OUR BOAT REACTS TO THE ACTION AND MAKES PACE AS SHE FREES.
FIRST THE SOUND OF THE BREAK…
THE SPLASH…THE WASH, AND THEN THE DANCE OF THE SPRAY THAT SKIRTS US LIKE A FROCK THAT IT MAKES.
WE WERE SAILING ALBEIT… A VERY LIGHT BREEZE!
I COULD TASTE THE SALT IN MY MOUTH IN THE EARLY MORNING AIR,
AND FEEL THE WASH OF THE BREEZE STREAMING GENTLY THROUGH MY HAIR.
WATER DROPLETS FLOATING IN TIME,
AS I SAVORED… THEIR SALTY SUBLIME.
MY EXHILERATION FLOWS STEADY FROM THIS MARITIME RETREAT,
KEENLY AWARE OF THE PERILS IN THIS SEA WE COULD MEET.
SILENTLY DECLARING FROM THE SOLITUDE OF MY SOUL, I AM AT ONE,
IN THIS PLACE I AM DUTY BOUND TO NOT HAVE US… UNDONE.
BUT ALAS AS FATE HAS IT… MY SENSES ARE ALERTED!
AS THE WAIL OF A FISHING TRAWLERS HORN SOUNDS SO WE MIGHT BE AVERTED.
THE SOUNDS PLAYING STRANGE TRICKS ON MY EARS,
AWAKENING THIS SAILORS CONCERN OF OUR FRAGILITY AND DEEPEST HELD FEARS.
THE SOUND GETTING LOUDER… NEARER AND NEARER,
THEN OUT OF THE MIST BECOMING SUDDENLY… MUCH CLEARER.
LOOMING, LIKE A SHADOWY GHOST SHIP OF LORE,
EVERY HAIR STOOD OUT FROM MY EVERY PORE.
A SHARP QUIP TO MY CAPTAIN AT HELM,
“HARD A STARBOARD”, IN A VOICE CLEARLY OVERWHELMED.
HIS REACTION… AS QUICK AS CAN BE,
SO AS NOT TO BE ANOTHER LOST CASUALTY… IN THIS UNFORGIVING AND TREACHEROUS SEA.
ONCE SAFE… IT WAS BACK TO MY DUTY,
LISTENING…
LOOKING…
FEELING…
AND ENJOYING A TASTE OF THE SEA!
(2013)
This poem was written after a weekend of sailing with my friend Rob Burt and is the memory of our sail home from Newport to Stonington in the late fall.
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