“No Wake?” barked the rented captain. 
“There’s no ride without wake bumps,
This brewing storm and the rolling tide. 
Take it or leave it, I’d just as soon fish.”

Chastened, we landed mateys, climbed
Aboard the chartered schooner, well,
Not really a schooner, but to us a goodly
Vessel with promises of wide water,
Brilliant sun, and dolphins playing  aft. 

After all we’d been taught our sturdy oak
Lives so long because she survived high
Wind, deadly drought, locust plague, and
Lightning bolts while a tender sapling.  
Can’t we be as brave as the venerable tree? 

The old captain told us gory stories
Of near misses, capsizes, drownings.
Horrors enough to drive us from the
Sea. Yet the twinkle hidden behind  
Salty lines in his weathered face

Told more of survival than disaster. 
Crafty old sailor, thank you for your
Long vision and sturdy hand on the wheel. 
We’ ll be back, rough sea or smooth. 
Lubbers we are, but cowards we’re not.