Almost Home

in the arms of mother nature drifting with the tide winds pushed up ice water mountains the voyage home was to be a hard ride water broke the wheelhouse window charts floated as the boat tipped down and when she came back the radar went black please God don't let us run aground the minutes slowed down to hours a crew of nerves with fingers numb from the North Atlantic showers hearts beat fast while bailing pumps hum the darkness and the fury played a thousand violins while the twisting wet seasoned plank shrieked in the high winds when we lost all of the power the boat spun around cold and soaking wet could feel the warm sweat please God don't let us run aground