thoughts on the day we took in the sailboat
she has always been a sign to me
of life and death,
of the beginning and the end,
of joy and pain,
of second chances given and of finality.
it sums like just a few short days ago
(it was a bright june day)
we put her in the water.
it was a day of gaiety and celebration!
the bow sprit's bolted on,
the halyards threaded through the pulleys,
the oaken mast is hoisted,
shrouds connected,
main sail fastened on the boom,
the jib lines on the locking cleats.
but there is even then a dimly sensed awareness
that this delicious day will have its counterpart in death,
that even as she slips into the crystal water
she must some day come out again.
and every day i sail her,
and feel the rudder sing,
wind blowing in my face,
i understand all this will someday end.
oh why must every joy be tinted
with the dark black edge of melancholy sadness?
are there no new beginnings
that have no dreary end?
today is surely one of death!
she comes up on the land reluctantly,
like a child called from her play for sleep.
she leaves her native habitat of wind and wave
to hibernate till june again.
like some great prehistoric water beast on land,
she looks forlorn
and out of place,
a little bit grotesque.
the stately mast comes down,
the sails lay in the storage box
like silken shrouds on some dear friend.
so sleep, good friend, the long cold winter through,
but june will come again!