It’s strange talking about work and the weather
as if we didn’t spend almost a decade
wrapped up in each other

Somewhere out on the water
talking about forever
as if it was just another Tuesday

You were always trying to teach me how to sail
but I never really listened
still I was in love with your voice
and the way you’d stop to kiss me
when I complained about the cold
till it didn’t matter anymore

Sometimes I wish we’d never come ashore
stayed out there where time didn’t matter
and nothing changed

We could have disappeared over the horizon
into the proverbial sunset
we would have stayed golden

and I'd put the seas between us.
— you can't hurt me here.

I am too long
Outside a boat,
Too long away from the
Tip and shimmy
Of a dinghy hull,
The joyous swoop
Of a hull under sail,

Too long since my
Hand rested upon
A tiller,
Felt those five essentials
Work in balance to
Place no load
Nor need a weather helm,

Too long away from that
Which brooks no
Office politics,
No lovers tiff
Nor household chore,
Just pleased to carry me
By wind away from shore

But soon and soon
No matter the weather,
Be it storm or calm,
Sun or snow or rain,
Even frozen lake won't
Stymie my day,
For I shall sail,

And when that wood
Which bears me
Is a diamond coffin,
And life has left my body,
Be ye certain that somewhere,
God willing,
My soul is sailing still

I miss the sound of water
Keening past the hull,
I miss the soughing of wind in sail
And the dull thrum of the shrouds
Like oversized guitar strings
Plucked from my heart,
By fingers felt
Yet never seen,


I miss the heel of the hull as a gust
Catches the sails,
The feel of the gunwhale
Below my buttocks as I hike out,
The restored sense of balance
As my weight matches
The turning moment
Of sail over keel,

I miss that simple shared moment
Of unity and rightness
With a crew who understands,
Or sometimes while solo
I share that instant with
The great good God that made
Me and others fit
To experience His creation

I miss the water,
I miss the wind,
I miss the feel of a taut sheet
And a tiller in my hands,
The surging sense of motion
As the shore retreats
And the horizon beckons
Me forward

I miss all these things and yet
Even as I type this verse,
At the end of another day,
Another week and with another
Boatless weekend ahead,
Like all good fish heads,
In my head and in my heart
I am - still - sailing

The sky dressed in a lavender hue.
Six o'clock mornings always felt better with you.

You were my morning cup of tea,
A one hundred percent all-natural sweetener guarantee.

They could find us in the sky,
With our footprints in clouds of sunset tie-dye.

Just like that, we were gone with the wind.
Sailing, never to be seen,
And so our story would begin.