Twenty eight restless kids peer out over the rails
but there’s no wind to fill Shenandoah’s sails
The bunks are made and clothes all put away
Everyone on board hopes we’ll sail today
No one likes the situation we are in
Even the crew’s patience wears thin
Several small hands scrub the deck clean and dry
and the Black Dog burgee is raised up high
Yet like Old Glory it just hangs straight down
and a thick, white fog covers the town
Two days in Holmes Hole is too long for me
but worse for 5th graders bound for the sea!
Ol’ Cap’n Bob keeps an eye to the sky
searching for signs that a change is nigh
He is first to notice the dense fog lifting
getting lighter and finer like flour Cook is sifting
All of a sudden, the sunlight breaks through
Cap’n Bob knows exactly what he must do.
“All hands!” he shouts to his novice crew
The children line up. Well, most of them do
They grab the lines making sure they aren’t caught
chanting while hauling the main sheets taut
Up go the sails. What a beautiful sight!
Knowing together we did it just right.
Now out of the Harbor and on into the Sound
Off to Tarpaulin Cove our great ship is bound!
Ruth Major, an oil painter and writer, is working on a collection of poems called “Islander.”
