The sky grew dark
and the wind full voiced
so I furled my single sail.
I battened down the hatches
fearful of the coming gale
the clouds were low and threatening
They oft are this time of year.
They made me wish I could be somewhere,
anywhere, but here.
Random bolts of lightening streaked
across the sullen sky.
Waves took and shook my little boat.
I thought that I might die.
A tingle of anxiety
I felt it in my gut
Imagine how relieved I felt
when the director hollered "Cut!"