Expedition

The day is fresh Long before the sun yawns into the morning The sound of bells clanging Ropes whipping the mast into shape Creaking of the old boats A feint smell of lobster Rises to meet me as the zip Rasps towards my chin Along the comfortable material Of the gilet Can the ocean be trusted? No more than the weather No more than a wild animal However tamed they appear Domesticated the ocean will never be I climb down the wooden ladder Into the trusty boat I pause in the moment Feet sensing the security of My familiar friend Stormy seas we have seen Yet she welcomes me back I sense her sigh with relief A voiceless, palpable release As I hoist the sail Pushing away from the harbour wall We both know This is not the place for us A gull invites us to follow So we nod along