The embrace of our cockpit is comfort
with the moon, almost full, high over our mast
casting light over the gentle waters of this night.
I hear the simple lapping of water against our tender.
I smell the scent of flowers in the air,
a strange sense in the still night.
I see every grain of sand beneath us
through the glass of the illuminated sea.
I feel the waves effortlessly rocking our home
letting us know that what we are doing is not ordinary.
My children sleep an arm's length from where I sit,
most likely dreaming of playing on sandy beaches,
and of new friends found in different places.
My wife slumbers in a cocoon of sheets,
hatch open overhead,
sounds of the night, and of the shore,
falling lightly over her.
I sit quietly in the night, only knowing that
many adventures have passed, but many
more are coming, with friends made behind us
and new ones I have yet to meet ahead.
Do not ask me where we will be tomorrow,
or the day after, or even next week.
Right now I'm happy to know that I am here,
listening, feeling, seeing a land distant,
away from the places we know and have
found comfort in, adventuring, appreciating
and embracing our journey.