Wednesday, March 18, 2009

day SEVENTY SEVEN

NIGHT PASSAGE

To lee shore we sail
by instinct not star
no moon shines our path
nor makes us with shadow

The cargo's the thing
we mean to make port
nigh shoals nor shallows
deny us our mooring

Crossing to warning
no fiddlers say we
a dunsel's repair
gets us to bottom

D's locker we seek
the ropes at the bitts
leeway she blows
and windfall prevails.


 




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