Dappled cloud, pinkish gray, dress the afternoon’s dull day.
Breathlessly the sun arrives, peeking shyly through the gray.
“Much too late to warm the day,” seems to say a tender doe.
“The day,” mimics, from Madrona tree, a raven black.
An eagle soaring, salmon dinner in her clutch –agrees.
We too accede, as we navigate the Inland Passage way.
These untamed scenes delight the eye as we sail
to find a sheltered anchorage, in which to end our day.
Palely glows the Moon –time for God to light His gloaming skies,
and caress, the velvet night with His galaxy of stars;
which chaperon and guide loan sailors with His moonlight paths.
Beneath this canopy of God’s –safely anchored– we give thanks
To Him, in awe and gratitude for beauteous nights like this.