A rust-rimmed bullnose aimed at a rising red moon
Parts an inky black sea
Turning it to white foam hissing along tanktops
To slide aft past and to be joined by jets of cooling water.
Together they disappear into a far distant wake
Returning to the darkness from where they came.
The rumble of engines is the only other sound.
Unsynchronized it rises and falls in a pattern
So sweet to the ear in our silent sea
She glides along under a starry sky.
Clouds now and then hide the moon
The air stirred by her passing is dungaree shirt warm
Ruffling the hair of the watching men.
They watch for others that dont sail in their sight.
Alone they sail to another watery spot
To submerge at dawns first light And cover her slick blackness with a protecting sea.
When their time is done and she is no more
The men will remember this silent sail to nowhere
As a privilege and the best there ever was.