OFF-SEA BREEZE

Posted by Admin on Tuesday, 15th April 2008, 00:00

The wind athwart the marsh is cold,
despite the splendent sun;
reminder, chill as love’s reproach,
that Spring has not begun.
But something stirs within my breast,
most indefinably,
a yen revived for madcap days
when I could put to sea,
and plunge along that tidal-race
with Thorness on the lee;
inhale great draughts of brine-charged air,
of maid and master free;
a ten-ton cutter for my bride –
oh, that was ecstasy!

T. C. Hudson

© T. C. Hudson.

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