Wind, Water and Wings

The sail flutters at five knots
onward, the ballooned curtain
now one with the wind,
spreads its patched white wings and
lunges me ahead.

A knot for every year.

The taste of fresh salt
floods my all-seeing eyes and unmutes
the songs of the wind and wild water
splashing the lapels of the fishing yacht.

The net will never see dead fishes again--
or hooks, or baits or