Sailboarder
It's me alone against the world,
that's how it seems atop the crest
of wind-pushed wave; my upright wing
is punishing my arms and chest.
There's something thrilling just to know
it's me alone against the world,
as each gust lifts at breakneck speed,
and tempests keep the whitecaps swirled.
My aching fingers start to swell,
the hours linger through the day,
it's me alone against the world,
with nature's fury on display.
I've realized exotic dreams
of surfing with my sail unfurled,
The Great Lakes beg to take my bet,
it's me alone against the world.
Poem and Photo- Copyright © 2009 by Jack Huber-
All rights reserved.
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"I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again."
--Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)
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