Hudson 2

Heeled over hard, silent screaming
taut sails, rigid lines,
we heave in passionate progress
punctuated by sudden gusts.

Fought across holding runs
over against current but
with powerful sea-tide we push between
ancient Hudson's green banks, gray rocks.

Streaming sun defines this passage until
gunnels down breathless, and dangerous,
we jibe and find ourselves
running wide, silent wind at our backs.

Ahead a shallow cove opens wide
low green arms and still water
offering silent rest and a place
to catch our breath.

Sails fall deckbound,
Naked mast points straight
as anchor sinks cool to river bottom
and we sink silent in the cockpit.

Hard winds, rocky banks so wrong
they think they map our world,
not knowing the power of floating silent,
nor the range of naked feet.

7/18/98