The Call of the Sea
The Call of the Sea
The ship breathes lightly,
pushing with a sway,
away from the dock
to glide towards the call
of the seas and a watery ease.
The ship slips across a
shimmering polished body,
waiting to be clutched by
wind, wave and welcome
folding into a blue, muscular rhythm
surging, urging towards distant lands, distant sands.
The sea patterns and pulses,
whispering secrets from its depths,
“What you can’t see is what you don’t know!”
Then for hours, the ship is gritted with determination
shuddering, stretching, straining its low bow
in search of a hidden horizon
but, instead, uncovering a punch of a storm.
In time, night follows surreptitiously
in the vessel’s wandering wake
painting a thin, watery darkness
while the storm’s aggressive beauty…. drifts,
leaving lightning behind to scratch the heavens;
offering a brief pathway of light.
The ship, with a sense of swagger,
a lilt of shashay….rhythms onwards.
Ian Souter
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