The bow hits the ball,
Turning the boat,
Off to the next marker.
Out in the distance,
From high above,
The gulls look below.
Small specs,
Of Fiberglass.
Sprinkle,
The Azure,
Landscape.
The one behind,
Is actually ahead,
Due to their course.
Small drops,
Of sweat falls.
As the crew,
Turns their heads,
Together.
It’s easy to change,
But hard to stay the course,
Unless you know the way.
Lucky for you.
Captain Tench,
has seen,
Stormier days. 
