Bakster
If you ever want to share your perceptions of what you had seen
It being St Crispin's Day, it seems mete and just for an old man to roll up his sleeves and show his scars, and remember, with advantage, feats done in earlier days . . .
Once you stand out int othe blue water, well away from theland and the haze that lurks exer over it to be of no more substance than yesterday's clouds, then it becomes abundantly clear that the sky and the sea are coupled. Each a mirror to the other; both being both action and reaction, one to the other; sometimes one and the same.
It's the stuff of both superlatives, and of generalities.
Off Hampton Roads and trudging across the Gulf Stream under a sky of lead wool over ocean the color of molten solder--to have the skies clear, and the ocean don its deep blue visage again.
Or being under sail, south of Trinidad, in the silence that only the middle of the night knows. On a sea of pure black ink, under a cloudless ebon sky. The wind and the sea but a whisper, the sea as invisible as the sky, only the glimmering reflections to hols the hull up in the void littered with stars beyond measure, an endless, infinite sky.
Scariest sea though, would startle most. For is was a perfect turquise hue, with only the merest hint of motion upon it; the reflections giving way to glass transparency. ¿Que come est de meido?
Ah, the throbbing rumble to the engineering plant churning out horespower; blowers at full gulping the air, The buzz around the bridge with every sensor manned; every scanning device working.. The hum of people urgently to task.
Tha cause being the anthracite sky astern, shot through with colors nearly unimaginable; greens, aquas, corals, even ochers and the like. A living mass of sky come ravenous; lit with lightning botrh blue-white actinc and golden incandescant.
For such things are part and parcel to that dread heat engine, the tropical storm, well formed and afoot. The sure, steady, salt tinged steel, normally so sturdy and unyeilding made frail and weak in the face of energy so rawly displayed. Cubic kilometers of sky in their hundreds coupled to that circulation, climbing ever higher into the sky until it dares the stratosphere itself.
O we but mere mortal Men, sure in our Hubris, only to be reminded how fragile we really are, how feeble our Works are to the might of Nature itself.