Across the sky there linger clouds

caressing sun as would a shroud.

They scrape across a canvas blue

to gloat of which they were endowed.

A color, then comes,  which is new

a gray, hinting that tempests brew

Dismay; the sailor’s moods now sour

joy declines; terror then seeps through

Here comes the captain; what great power

he yells, he shouts, deck hands cower

New fear now ousts the elder

better dead than thrown over

The sky has calmed, silence is better

Sailors’ destinies don’t matter

No more shouts or futile smatter

Sea’s serenity no longer shattered