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Lee-rail awash, and a full gale now taking her
over the sea like a dolphin at play;
lifting and plunging, the broken waves shaking her,
drenching the crew with cold showers of spray.

Eager for first prize, the owner is pressing her,
rigging endangering, risking the mast:
men on the tilted deck fear he’s distressing her,
haul on the sheets and hope she will last.

Racing for home, the wild white horses breasting. Her
deck at an angle – degrees forty-five;
not for the first time, conditions are testing her,
teak-decked and oak-framed, she’ll surely survive.

Far in the offing a cutter is chasing her,
merging in cloudscapes of banked cumuli;
nothing to fear, not a rival’s outpacing her
sixteen-odd knots as she sails full and by.

T. C. Hudson

© T. C. Hudson.
This work may not be reproduced without prior permission of the author.

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