And in the night the
Roar and thunder rush
Groping out into the blinding darkness and
Crazy-angled world.
Sparks of phosphorescent gems
Streak in the black whiteness rushing backwards
Into unseen surges,
We plunge on into trusting void.
Then Cassiopeia appears
Her languorous hip, thigh and head
Give ballast to our flashing digital course.
And we, like old explorers
Huddle, legs braced against the fairing,
Nor flinch under the assault of spray and wave.
Our contemplation buried
Under roar, rush and whine.
No jokes or 'most whatever' moments
Tonight.
Reef one!
To abate the crack and jerk of sail.
Into the muzzle and rush of wave we went,
Clinging to system and sequence:
Cunningham made! And
Endless grind of pennant,
Feet braced against the streaming
Rush and violence.
Then out of the ocean a
Phosphorescent spark was thrown and
Stuck against the cabin side.
Proudly glowed a brilliant pulse,
Again, then bled long tears in neon
Blue and green,
Pulsed valiantly, shone, faded
Then died its Tinkerbell death.
