WILLIAM OGDEN HAYNES

Sailboat

Twenty miles from the marina, the wind dies down

and finally stops. The sails droop like tired flags, not

a whisper of a zephyr from the sky. The sun beats down,

the sea is like glass, the boat rocks back and forth, slack

lines slap the metal mast in an uncontrolled, eerie tattoo.

The mast against the sky swings from side to side like a

metronome with the rocking of the boat. And over the

transom, the rudder is motionless, useless without the wind.

The optimistic sailor rests his hand on the tiller as if it were

a magic wand that can entice a breeze to come out of hiding.

He waits in the heat, vigilant as a safecracker, as the boat drifts,

and seagulls circle overhead. Soon, he notices that the gulls

have no need to flap their wings. They coast and float on a

burgeoning current of air from a rising wind. He slowly tightens

his grip on the tiller and loosens the line for the mainsail.

When the sail catches its breath, the sailboat leans into the wind,

heeling over, silently sliding through the waves. Some say the

sailboat is a thread that stitches together sky and sea, suspended

between water and air. It’s sails, puffed like lungs, catch the wind

harnessing ancient forces men have tamed for centuries. There is

no hurry, just the steady pull of current and cloud in a world of

halyard, tiller and mast. Once underway, the rigging hums its tune

of clinking shackles and creaks of mast as the bow slices silently

through the water. The wind is not an enemy, but a comrade in transit.

The sailor reads the wind and bends to it, changes points of sail,

tacking and jibing to stay on course. The sailboat tells the invisible

stories of the wind by embroidering them on its wake.

William Ogden Haynes is a poet and author of short fiction from Alabama who was born in Michigan. He has published several collections of poetry and many of his poems and short stories have appeared in literary journals and anthologies. http://www.williamogdenhaynes.com

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