The Watchman

The Watchman

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Down to the Sea

Sea Fever


I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

There is nothing I enjoy more than the feel of sand between my toes.

 I love to listen to the crash of the waves.  Their rhythmic ebb and flow soothes me.

When my soul is troubled; sand, water and sky bring peace.  
Time along the river's edge or the shore of a lake is a temporary fix.

I feel myself drawn to the sea.  It is a physical pull.

It fills my senses with smells, sounds, sights, tastes, and textures.  
There is nothing that can compare.  My spirit is revived, my heart feels lighter.


No comments:

Post a Comment