Into the Storm -- Part 1
INTO THE STORM (PART 1)
A few drops predicting storm, large, heavy, hard.
Black clouds, low, hanging, turbulent.
Wind drops as a boxer lowers his guard,
Confident of the helplessness of an opponent
Facing the forthcoming fury omnipotent.
Waves, solid mountains of etched glass blocks
Swashing their black masses on the decks,
And she shivers with the shocks.
Bow crashes the watery wall ahead and checks.
Shards of black mass assault faces and necks.
Drops fly from ropes stretched straight to snapping,
Decks awash with black glass’s foaming flume,
Wind has horizontal pennant frantically flapping,
Rain lashes the leeside scuppers full of foam:
As we plunge into the black heart of the storm.
(to be continued….)
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