Poetry Pick

Young Sailors

by Elizabeth Grandbois
Ontario, Canada

It was a perfect day for sailing, we stepped into the boat,
patterns on the lake showed a gently blowing wind,
we hoisted up the sails as they flapped their discontent,
preparing for the pull and tug that soon was to begin.

Freeing up the bow and stern, we pulled the main sail tight,
the vessel started moving leaving moorings far behind,
sails luffed gently in the wind, a soft rippling sound,
the boat cut through water that lapped along the side.

Further out upon the lake we tightened up the jib,
catching the prevailing winds that filled the canvas sails,
the starboard side plunged to meet the fast flowing wash,
behind the boat the wake left its long dark tail.

Feet pressed to the center, we sat high upon the side,
our heads out over water as we leaned against the pull,
with wet hair in the wind, we yelled in sheer delight,
feeling the vibrations of the rudder as she heeled.

Suddenly the ship lost wind and sails began to flap,
we pulled the tiller to the left and brought the boat about,
the boom swung low to port side, clanging on the mast,
pressing on with billowed sails we tacked toward the south.

We spent the day out on the lake, sailing wild and free,
challenging mother nature and the forces of her will,
letting go of time we were lost to sailors' dreams,
returning home at sundown with the early evening chill.


 
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