Resting At Night

RESTING AT NIGHT At evening when the sun dried the boards And the wind dropped to a lulling sway We sat like lords Of all we survey Listening to the fiddle of the cook And all the while giving a furtive look Toward the captain's door And his terrible roar Which in the daylight Commanded grog or flog But ordered scriptures by night Leaving us all agog 8 October 2019 ……………………….............. Note - this is another exerpt from my longer poem, “Discovery of America”, the real story of men against the sea in 1492.