Musing on My Little Boat

For my Little Boats, Adelaide and Gabrielle

On a warm summer day I will launch you, my Little Boat. I thought long and consulted the Great Boat Maker for guidance before I built you. Horrible storms I had seen at sea convinced me of the need to build you correctly. Your keel was laid with utmost attention to detail, for it is your foundation. When strong winds batter you, and they will, your solid keel will keep you on course.

Only the strongest timbers could make your hull. Good wood expands and contracts with weather conditions and endures well. The character of a good hull promotes buoyancy and will keep you well above water. I molded every plank into shape with my hands, hand-fastened every joint and glued every seam. Your integrity is watertight.

The seasoned spruce I chose for your mast is well known for its strength and flexibility. It will hold the sheet firmly in place, yet yield when conditions warrant as you cut across the open sea.

The genius lies in your sails. Only the best canvas would I choose for your sails. I cut and stitched your sails myself paying particular attention with every stitch that the knot was secure. Again, so there would be no fraying when winter winds blow. I embedded pretty pictures on them which will keep you always moving forward in a positive way. It is your sails working in conjunction with your keel, hull and mast which determine how far you will travel. You are sturdy and sea worthy, shiny and beautiful, Little Boat, and I love you. May fair wind fill your sails and golden horizons lie ahead for you.

One day you will build and launch a little boat of your own. Then you will know my joy.

It is with gladness in my heart, but sadness in my eye that I release you to ocean, wind and sun.

Copyright 2012, Luke Saucier

Musing on Middleland

As first rays purpled the eastern horizon, the good ship Lollipop sailed forth. Sweet harbor lay dark and quiet, but became noisy with the coming dawn. We cut silently out into early morning sea and daylight.

Toward noon the wind picked up, and so did the sea. Afternoon provided turns aplenty. I took dangerous plunges and unnecessary risks. I drove her hard and fast. She served me better than I knew; better than I deserved. We travelled far. I never fully appreciated her green timbers while aboard and she had just become seaworthy when, late afternoon, during one of the frequent storms near Middleland, I hugged too close in and the cross-current of Middleland dashed us upon its shoals.

Looking back it's all clear, now, mistakes made while still in her thrall, but, in my heat, I was blind. Lollipop lies behind me now, broken on the shore of Middleland. No turning back, so I‘ve deconstructed her and carry pieces to burn to warm me and show the way. Her light reveals obstacles along the path. I forge on as blue yields to indigo. Forward. Always moving forward.

Old Bald Mountain with its stinging wind lies ahead to the west and beyond is the setting sun toward which we all must travel.

Copyright, Luke Saucier, 2012

Musing at The Shore of Time

I stood upon the shore of time. Moments washed over my feet. In my preoccupation with matters at hand, I didn't notice the rising tide. I was, too soon, swept away.