The sky, cloudless, crosses,
Horizon to horizon, dropping behind
Distant edges of islands’ green trees.
Silhouetted against those
Ribbons of land, white sails fill
With the seaward flow.
Past points, bridges, and light houses,
Those sail boats glide.
A beautiful day to set sail.
Which will return home,
After a day of sailing?
Which will continue out
To the horizon, dispearing
In the space between
Graduated blues of sea and sky?