the lone teenager walked down the creosote wood pier;
the visored lady warriors loomed over him;
he crossed the brow,
saluting the Ensign on the fantail
as he had been trained
before descending into the bowels of the ship,
returning to the 01 level below the bridge
to stand at parade rest
while his visored lady warrior stood out
of Narragansett Bay
to
his first time at sea,
which became his new home.

the wind combed his hair;
the night cold gave him strength:
the trail of the moon gave him peace;
while standing at the rail one evening,
the mistress of the sea reached up
to grab his heart;
the green water forging over the bow
washed his soul;
the doldrums taught him patience;
the stars to navigate by
showed him the way;
the heels and rolls of his warrior
brought him balance;
the thickened, old, black coffee
gave him endurance;
water spouts, flying fish;
dolphins playing across and under the bow;
clear nights with millions, millions of stars and planets,
the swish of the bow wake down the sides;
the dark clouds and their lightning;
the angry storms of immense proportion;
the cloudless days with light winds
with every hue of blue of the sea;
showed him awe-striking beauty;
eventually, he discovered the sea’s mistress
who had took his heart
would talk to him and he to her;
and
life at sea fit him.

finally, he left
his visored lady warriors and the sea’s mistress
to roam the roads of his world
for a while
before
he returned to the small town of his birth
in the heart of Tennessee
to be interred beside his folks:
he had finally come back home.