The Kitchen Garden Novice At Sea

Can anything rival a morning at sea?
The sound of the ship, gliding through cobalt glassy waves,
A paradox of simultaneous "hush" and "roar."

No sound exists

but the thrum of engines,
the rhythmic soughing of swell against hull.

No other ships on the horizon.
No land. No bird.

Nothing but sky and sea.

A solitary moment in a day,

soon to be bustling with fellow passengers.

The sheer power of water stuns the senses.
One drop quenches the thirst
of parched leaf, dry tongue.
United with many,
the same drop carries an oceanliner.

Water returns to water.
Rain falls to earth.
Streams trickle to rivers.
Rivers flow to oceans, and evaporate to mist.
And the process begins again,
Returning, recycling, renewing.
Water, reborn.

Can anything rival a morning at sea?