SSV Tabor Boy, a Sonnet

S.S.V. TABOR BOY David T. Johannesen Class of 1964 Hear the eight delicate bells of midnight Sounding the commander’s watchful zeal; The shallow hills of Falmouth shed their light, Gray smiles across a starboard reach: ideal Union of wind and tide, love’s surety Leans the blissful hull into nourishment; Mizzen and main point with alacrity As fore jib snaps in surprised bereavement. Eight bells again, now harsh in midday lee; The faintly scented decks pillow our stance, Braced then climbing the unknown odyssey, Elegy of disappointed dreams: chance: The life we thought we had prepared to find Has over spread the weather of our mind. (Under sail, Buzzards Bay) Sonnet: DTJ, October, 1992 Addendum Top gallants no more sear the horizon, The Coast Guard said, that’s much too brazen: For those in peril on the sea, whose fathers served the Queen's Navy; or those who still their canvas keep, Sou'sou-east of Orion's feet: I introduce the compass of my soul— hundred foot gaff schooner with iron hull. —DTJ 7/7/07