Our harbor was green with uncluttered algae. We set sail shortly after midnight, under a slivered moon. The sea was choppy under our careful guidance. Cupped handfuls at a time, we bailed our vessel free from salt water and anxiety. Poetry in motion, framed in the eye of a storm. Working together found us exhausted but safe in a strangely familiar port. We wore moonburns and rigging welts with pride and slept for a week in each other's arms.
9:00 p.m. - 2015-12-14
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