a race is about to start
beneath the harbour heads

like a flock of birds
the boats flutter and wheel
to nature’s insistent cry

eager lusty boats
where corks pop and
untamed bubbly shrieks
spill out from the
young intoxicated lips

to the open sea
hissing white hulls
cleaving glittery waters
decks spray-toss lifting

precocious sails
drummed tight with
youthful promise

the rolling swell deepens
nor’easters strum and pluck
the crusty salt thickens
beneath a thirsty sun

some sail tight-hauled fast
but others lie listless
stranded in the doldrums
of their life

rimy-iced railings
white horses racing
lonely albatross dipping
beneath the squally skies

eyes tightening
hands on the tiller
calloused and hard

storm wrecked limping
o’turned sinking
flawed boats
weak boats
found out

nature is calling
my breast is beating
how will my sailboat go?