A few days ago I sailed Songline down the California coast with the help of a few friends.
It was cold and windy and confused steel-gray seas heaved our bows this way then that.
For three days we helmed our little ship down each big wave with a rumbling whoosh and a seething sigh.
Hour after hour the miles rolled away under our keel. Whoosh then sigh. Whoosh then sigh.
For a few short days we four became one crew aboard a tiny wind machine, synchronized with the relentless rhythms of the sea,
Whoosh then sigh.
Now I am in port again and listening to news of Glenn Beck’s rally for God and country. No Whoosh. All sigh.
So I sailed Songline down the California coast with the help of a few friends. It was cold and windy and confused steel-gray seas heaved our bows this way and that. For three days we helmed our little ship down each big wave with a whoosh and a seething sigh. Hour after hour the miles rolled away under our keel — who…osh then sigh, whoosh then sigh.
For a few short days we four became one crew aboard a tiny wind machine, synchronized with the relentless rhythms of the sea — whoosh then sigh.
