Steadied on wheelhouse ladder, Gulf of Maine
At Night, evening slipped to starry blackness,
No ship lights or diesels droning, only open-
Sea silence, pitching waves abated, witnessing
What few have seen or known, advancing
Last glimmer of sun in southwest, lights of
Isle au Haut and Long Island, ocean revealed
Vast liquid sphere, from rosy setting sun to
Emerging dusky blues, night descended
Imperceptibly, orbiting points of light, gentle
Waves up-lifting, majestic cradle of life.
As shaded hues deepened, eyes adjusted to
Narrowed light, earth rotated fifteen degrees
Each hour, last sun glimmer faded into still
Twilight. Evening on open wings, distilled
Transparent blue, constellation Orion swept
Upward, his gauntlet, radiant starry sash.
These are glories few have known or mariners
Take time to view, plowing cresting waves for
Speed and distance to their port-of-call. Yet,
Such serenities are beyond GPS coordinates,
As they provide brief glimpses into the into
The Immeasurable, rejoicing of my sea-soul.
To visualize the effect of advancing night, one needs
To be offshore and at some height above the waves.
Night approaches as a vast dark curtain, moving ~15
degrees of latitude per hour (except in near polar
regions where all points of latitude converge at
the poles). After all, the sky is a thin ocean of
atmosphere and clouds.