Over the oceans uneven surface
the oarsmen strain against ancient currents.
Muscles ache with weight and drive.
The waves seek dominance on the boats
direction, altering the course, only to be
set right with flesh and strength.
A linen light mist layers on hats
and shoulders. A gray leather sky broods
above in silence.
The ship, a rising and lowering home, set
with tired and repaired canvas, sits
faithfully unsteady, beckoning home
warriors after searching dark fathoms.
Roger Singer 