I love the way the water meets the hull;
laps and holds and yields its strength to give
support to sunlight, moonlight glint, or star.
Short-angled waves seek out the shore
like crested, white capped, whispering nuns,
breaking their vows of silence to exclaim
in happy spray, "How glorious is the day!"

I love the quiet majesty of size
and depth. The awesome feel of the deep
balanced in a universe of strength.
My chip of craft is carried by the force
of acres, miles of water underneath.
If all the force were loosed by one small hole,
how gratefully my nest would fail its test!

J.P. Fuller

Copyright 1998 John Peter Fuller