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Solo Sail
My heart beats like the luffing mainsail
It flutters, more so than it pounds.
I tightly grip the sheet holding back the wind and staying the course.
The forward waters tumble, tossing spray on my cheeks and brow.
Oh, I love to sail!
The origin of joy is where the axes meet,
Where wind, water and vessel intersect,
Where mind and sinew wrestle the inanimate in a natural battle
And the hull slaps the waves and the waves slap the hull.
Mast and bow pierce the planes ahead.
They take life from tiller and gust.
They dip and thrust and plow and ride
Tracing the puppeteer’s command.
I read water’s surface, listen to the song in the rigging and stay the course.
When comes the unexpected lull and the accompanying vessel lurch?
That sneaky challenge to the pace and direction and my command.
A quick hike or loosened haul is my reply to stay the course
And to nudge my charging steed forward.
Exhilaration extends as weather and water tease the spirit
With renewed threats of dangerous upset and capsize.
Muscle and grip and grip and muscle ready my return to the origin
Where wind, water and vessel intersect
To pierce another plane and to stay the course.
R. Peter Weedon (3581)
(copyright, 2019)
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