Natures Wrath

The journey begins as the wind whispers,
be prepared, be prepared.

Reaching the gangway and placing
each step in stride,
eventually reaching the deck.
As the moorings are removed,
and the anchor hoisted
the vessel moves away from the dock.

Now watching the outline of the shore disappear,
we move forward upon the glassy sea.

The wake becomes more turbulent,
the wind begins its gusts,
the howl distinct.
Clap of thunder in the distance,
torrential rain begins,
the clouds release their abundance of moisture,
on those below.

Waves reaching tremendous heights,
the ship climbs at a forty-five-degree angle,
as it sea-saws through the swells.
White water breeches the bow,
spray leaves a clear glaze upon the forecastle.

Moving from port to aft,
hearing the fantail makes it sound
Thud, Thud,
upon hitting the surface of the water.
Grabbing the handrail to proceed to not
cast this figure overboard.

Now at the stern of the ship settling down,
hypnotized, peering at the endless darkness
of the ocean.
Hours pass and soon the swells decrease in size.
As the clouds open and a clearing emerges,
the sun rays streak on the wakes as the ship glides forward.

The journey continues until reaching port again.
Now alongside the pier casting the anchor,
the mooring was placed to forestall the movement,
allowing the gangway to be lowered and docking complete.

Descending to reach the pier placing each foot upon the wharf.
Looking down to the end where land is seen,
a gentle breeze begins once again.

With the wind whispering,
be prepared, be prepared.