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