Hagar in the Red Sea

I’M in awe. Quiet pride, as she shoulders aside,The great swell in her ride through the darkThe wind is strong and it’s rising.The masthead light sweeps an arc through the stars andthe message is clear,The wind is rising.The foredeck dips down, awash and a’sway,And the nav-light glows brief on the whip of the spray.Both tell the same story – wind is rising.The strain in the ropes, as they hum with the force,Keeps them singing the song of wind risingAnd I want … how I want, this moment to last.The song of the rigging, the pitch of the blast,The dance through the stars of the top of the mast.But it can’t last. The wind is strong and rising.So I turn to the task with halyard and winchAnd fight flapping mainsail, try not to flinch,make a reef fold and tie it within half an inch.Still the wind roars that it’s rising.Exhaustion sets in and I have to claw back,Down swooping deck to check Hagar’s track.The sea is still violent, the night is still black,But we’re safe from the howl of wind rising.Hagar rides gently, a gull on the swell.‘Til the end of this spell,Of wind rising.