The sea is very beautiful, and wild,
And wave-spray fills the sky and wets our clothes.
The growling pebbles underneath our feet
Strain back and forth against the water's grip,
And we stand, arm- in-arm against the wind,
Waiting to launch the little boats we've made.
Bending together now, we brace ourselves
And  gently push each boat into the sea,
Only to have them thrown back at our feet
Along with seaweed-scraps and shells and sand.
We try again, and still we fail to launch,
And have to pick our boats up from the beach.
Three more tries, and finally we see.
Our over-careful efforts will not do.
To breach the breaking waves, we must be bold
And hurl our boats from shore into the spray
And trust they find the ebbing water there.
And so we steel ourselves and draw a breath
And fling them far and trust them to the sea.
They strike and sink, and rise again, and right,
And floating, each begins to sail a course.
Still arm-in arm, we watch,
And try to track them from the shore.
We see their masts amongst the foam
And, sometimes, glimpse a hull on a wave.
Then as they travel on and farther out,
Their shapes drift out of vision, and at last
We find that we are guessing what we see.
And so we turn and leave the beach behind.
But even as we walk back from the shore,
We cannot help but cast our glances back
Into the wind, and strain our streaming eyes
To find imagined signs of three brave boats
Cutting a wake atop a restless sea.

updated by @americymru: 11/28/17 07:51:21PM