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It was glorious ...

A glorious, glowing morn ...
crimson crept up the sky, as if air-brushed ...
little round globs of fair-weather clouds tiptoed on the reach,
(so as to not wake the moon, laying down its head in the west),
close as cork where heaven met sea ...

But breaking apart as they rose, as if they were
dandelion thistle, being blown into the early blush
by the soft, playful puffs from a child's lips ...
dissipating upward into the clear navy blue above,
(where there was still enough night to see Venus and Jupiter).

The prism vault was a million shades, light-to-dark,
as broad a palette as I'd ever beheld.
Behind me, the night wash of the Milky Way on indigo,
with a halo of lavender and maroon encircling all,
the bloom of daylight reflecting through the atmosphere,

Radiating the horizon, with a sighing ring of warmth.
We were fifty kilometers off Point Udall, St. Croix,
due east, and as was my custom when at sea and sail,
(my foolish, rather risky romantic custom),
I had climbed the mast like a silly old salt,

To feel the early, full blossom of sun,
and be lit like a morning candle by its first blaze of dawn.
It had to be timed well on a fifty-five foot ketch,
as there was little assistance in climbing OR perching,
(grasping the mast head, knee on halyard hook, one foot on the tang).

I timed it so I'd be up there for five minutes, at most ...
though I was much younger then, I still had my limits,
and even the best of climbers wouldn't have lasted long,
clinging to the top of a small main, as I was.
I didn't REALLY expect to see it -

The "green flash", I mean ... it was rumored to be at sun's SET,
anyway, but I'd been told years prior, (by a tipsy,
care-worn Captain of the Royal Navy), that the rumor was
intended to keep folks chasing ghosts, as the TRUE
phenomenon had only been seen at first light, and only

By salts of old, when roosting high in the crows.
Still my daybreak climb was tradition now - a good-luck charm of
sorts, the hopes of that viridian vision of light, long-gone. 
It is said, however, that when we truly stop searching for
what we desire, only THEN does it make itself known ...

And as I was releasing my grip on the mast head to
clamber down, EVERYthing - my skin, clothes, hair, and the top of
the mast, just for an instant, but as if in slow-motion -
turned to a sparkling emerald JEWEL!!
And while the color itself took my breath ...

It was the feeling - a deep, profound sense of wonder and joy -
that I remember most, for it almost knocked me off the mast
in awe! Say what you will, that it was all in my head and heart -
a manifestation of hopes and myth, (or the overly-
imaginative wishes of a fool, too long at sea), but ...

The three others there that morn, bore unsullied witness, as the
green glow was so intense, that the sea itself shined like jade!
But most profound for me, especially at that young age,
was the shock of pure, snow-white hair on my head when I came down,
which has never left me since ...

And will always be ... my treasure.






~ 1st Place ~  in the "Let The Pens Flow - Narrative" Poetry Contest, 
Jenish Somadas, Judge & Sponsor.
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