Midnight, and a Breeze-Blown Spray
Midnight, and a breeze-blown spray
strafes my cheek. My eyes flare open,
muscles tense, poised for the onset
of that old nightmare, a frenzy
of wrestling with a billowing tent
while rain pummels my back.
But instead of blackness blotting
out the sky, it’s moon I see,
a pale orange scow jauntily riding
the swells of night, black breakers
and a foam of stars.Be calm,
the skipper calls down.
All is well.