Its Quiet Out Here

It's quiet out here, Alone under the stars,
Maybe a slight,
  Whisper,
from the sea,
Or a quiet,
Creak,
of the sail,
So you cup your hands over the wheel,
Check your course against the compass,
170.
Lightly stamp your feet for some warmth,
Perhaps shove a,
Frozen,
hand into a pocket,
Or tap out a,
Drumbeat,
upon the stiff helm,
So you let out a condensed sigh into the dark,
Check your speed over the ground in knots,
5.2
Pull in some slack on the wet main-sheet,
Maybe tighten the,
Soaked,
genoa sheet,
Or coil a loose,
Snaked,
rope at your ankle,
Squeeze your icy hand into a loose numb fist,
Fix your position on the crumpled sea chart,
100.49.112
Search the horizon for signs of life,
Perhaps a lost,
Ship,
on its way to nowhere,
Or a hidden,
Buoy,
warning of a deadly shoal,
Blink hard to waken almost hibernating eyes,
Check the time upon the age old brass clock,
3:54
Two more hours left of your lonely watch,

Its quiet out here, Alone under the stars,

Author's Note

The Joys of a miserable night watch at sea, sailing, that you soon learn to love.