Going Home

GOING HOME How sweet to be swept by the tide At last from this ocean earth-wide And soon on the horizon to comb For the mist-wrapped mountains of home. Women mending nets, men at their ropes Know we are coming, our cargo their hopes. To hear their words, see their faces my heart beats With the steady thrum of the breeze in the sheets. My soul is worn and I cannot speak. Snap of canvas and the halyard’s creak Recall those endless days of fatigue - But tell me we are closer league by league. From salt-spawned days without number The easy sway of the timbers And the dip and plash of the prow Are bringing me home from the brine now.