luff and lull

uick, sparkle, zing.  Sails taut, whizz fling over the waves.  These are things you hope for in a trip to There and Back beyond the bay.  But yesterday we bobbed and luffed, bobbed and luffed for hours.  The wind had forgotten us entirely.  I saw a snail row past us on a penny gold leaf.  Overhead a raven flew backwards and arrived the day before last. That was moments before I nodded off into “ that place between sleep and awake”^*.  (I love that place, full of sound and rest, every audio blip filtered through water slosh and fish puckering at the air.  And the boat determined to dip sideways and splooshways until my head feels too heavy for my neck.  It is impossible to stay awake when you are there.)

*Tinker Bell - Hook (1991)