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Autumn Solo



Dark Appaloosa Sky rushing to a slate horizon.

Bearing: west by south.

Winds: North by northwest.

Seas: dull green, mounting, with slashes of white.

Starlight reaching..... Reefed

With a bone in her teeth.

Crew: none .... horizon empty.

Spray wet... cold... alive!

Alone



She rolls and pitches the rhythm of a cradle song.

The rhyme of pointing up and falling off.

Lee rail wet with occasional wash.

Weather rail making the coast disappear.

My station; the cockpit’s lee side.

I watch my world of shimmering luff  

washed by occasional frothing sea.

Safe... pensive....pleasantly melancholy.

Alone



Its time.

I rouse, with effort, from a half doze

And survey a larger immediate more demanding world.

Order the boat.... Prepare the sheets....

Wait for the moment... no logic...no thought

Only sensation.

Focus the senses.... feel the boat..

Listen to the wind....

Absorb the rhyme and rhythm.

Ready for the perfect instant.

Alone



Come About!.....

The wheel spins out the planned Chaos

Rattle........ Cacophony......

Starlight shaking like a wet hound.

Rhythm gone like broken glass!

Bight down on the other tack.

Sheets tight as winches tame her sails

from random noisy billows to hard white wings.

A new rhythm....... a new rhyme

Softer now, the wind....... more abaft the beam.

A gentler cradle........ a softer song

Alone





© Joseph Philippe Ouellette 2001