Woken by jerking bunks
And renewed gush of our hull homesong
We exchange thick, saturated air
For the warm rush of doldrum wind.
Cradling two pale stars between mast and shroud
I nurse the tilting of our sail,
Head lifted to the masthead
Wind on throat and cheek,
Gentle roar in my ear,
We surge.
Foam rushes on our beam,
Welling gush behind
Responding to each gust.
Our limp, hopeless hours of tortured daylight fade,
Futile tacks forgiven,
Memories of sweat coursing down temple and back
Evaporate in the dry caress.
A breathing splash!
Two dolphins grab a slice of air
And plaits of phosphorescence
Streak to our bows.
We heel, rush, star led. . .
Blessed.
