Shoving it out, Wading into the surf Then climbing onboard And putting the 75-pound Centerboard down, That was my proper Place and there I sat; Sailing out near A rock out-cropping, Dropping the Thirteen-pounder, Pulling back the Seagull And easing over the side Where I truly belonged. Later we'd dock And eat something At the Captain's Locker. The Potter rocking In clear view outside The restaurant's window. Up on a ridge I watched Ben and Duffy run up To follow me down. There was no place We didn't go, them Running and me stopping Now and then briefly Before moving on. --- This email has been checked for viruses by Avast antivirus software. http://www.avast.com