Sea Level
Leaving port once again,
never knowing if or when
we'll return, so until we do,
I'll carry with me thoughts of you,
and, tho' sails are set, charted course laid out,
there's still time to come about,
now, as the skipper shouts, “Helm's a-lee!” to me,
then's when I know, here's where I should be,
at the wheel, the vessel in stays,
yet, I can but do, the best I can,
as a running sea has many ways,
of soundly grounding, both ship and man.
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