Heavy Weather Sailing
The storm endured for 94
years.
She deftly navigated the
wind and waves,
Surviving in the eye for nearly
nine decades.
Sailing to exotic ports of
call,
Away from the boom & bluster.
Fixing her position by
Sparkling stars and summer
sun,
All while providing a lee
for her crew.
But the rarely relenting
vigor
Of the gale wore her down.
Her compass, charts, and sextant,
Swept away by seas,
Her sails in tatters, helm
untended,
Flotsam/jetsam in her wake,
She drifted, alone on the
briny deep.
But not before showing her
crew
The easy way and balmy breezes
Of the tropics.
The storm endured for 94
years.
She trained her crew well,
Preparing them for their own
voyages.
They jumped ship, one at a
time,
Departing for ports of their own,
Finding their own gentle
navigators.
Some dropped anchor a few
hundred miles from the eye,
Sharing hard-won knowledge
with others.
One sought refuge on the far
side of the world,
On white sands with sweet
citrus and tree ferns.
Another found the sheltered
shores
Of the Salish Sea, away from
the fury,
With a navigator, positive
& patient,
Kind & caring, brimming
with love,
Showing that not every voyage
Charts a course through
heavy weather.
The storm endured for 94
years.
Like the great red spot on
Jupiter,
He scoured the planet,
Devouring conflict
Like a Michelin starred meal,
Because being right
Brought more than being
happy.
His days were councils &
committees,
Rarely resting, constant motion,
As another task awaited.
Occasionally, the mistral
abated,
Never the Horse Latitudes,
As mackerel skies and mare’s
tails
Always loomed on the
horizon,
But the wind let go, with the
sun
Filling cracks in the clouds,
Like caulking between
planks.
He joked with friends, sang
in the choir,
Shared his wisdom, helped as
needed,
Sailed, fished, hunted
And played cribbage.
And He cried as each of the crew
departed.
It was his brand of love,
but love, nonetheless.
The squalls and squabbles have dissipated,
No longer filling sails,
While the abiding chaos of
navigating shoal water
And confused seas have taken
their toll,
His work is done.
He is underway to Snug
Harbor.
May he rest his oars at last,
And know the solace
Of fair winds and following
seas,
And that his crew loved him,
His brand of love, but love, nonetheless.
26 Jan 25 John F Fossett Marginal Effort Publishing
