30° 25.60’N 86° 35.58’W
December 2019
A Mariner’s Night Before Christmas
By: Pam Brown
‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through their boat
Not a leak was occurring; it was safely afloat…
Their bow lines were tied on the pilings with care
In the knowledge their boat would remain safely there!
The Captain and first mate were snug as could be
Having just settled themselves from a long day at sea…
When up on the deck there arose such a clatter
They sprang from the V berth to see what was the matter!
Away to the companionway they flew with a dash
Climbed up the stairs and threw open the hatch…
The winter night sky and the enormous full moon
Shone on the marina as if it were noon!
Their wandering eyes simply could not stop staring
As they saw a donned dinghy pulled by eight great blue herons!
With an old dinghy driver, what they saw gave no pause…
They knew in an instant it was Capt. Santa Claus!
More rapid than seagulls his herons they came…
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name!
Now Skipper, now First Mate, now Anchor and Chain
On Starboard, on Port, on Genoa and Main!
To the top of the bimini, to the top of the top of the Yawl
Now fly away, fly away, fly away all!
As safe harbors that before a wild hurricane blows
When they meet with wind gusts that they take on the nose
So up to the mast tops the herons they flew…
With a dinghy of new boat parts, and Capt. Claus, too!
And then in a twinkling they heard such a thing…
The flapping and flying of each heron’s wing!
As they watched in amazement, it all happened so fast…
Capt. Claus was descending down a ketch’s tall mast!
He was dressed all in white, with some nautical trim…
And his crisp captain’s hat very much suited him!
The bundle of boat parts was flung on his back,
And he looked like a mariner opening his pack!
His eyes - how they squinted, his brows were quite bushy…
His skin was quite tanned, and his middle quite mushy!
His weather-chapped lips were dry and wind seared,
And there on his chin a full-grown sailor’s beard!
A sailor’s knot bow line in his hands he did cling…
And it circled himself like a bright orange life ring!
He had salty features and a sailor’s keen eye…
That many a time through an eyeglass did spy…
He was crusty and wind-swept, a right craggy old tar;
And I knew his eight herons had taken him far!
A wink of his eye and a muttered “heave ho” …
He was one old seadog, he gave me to know!
He spoke nothing else, but whirled like a propeller
And under the dodger left a brand-new impeller!
And jerking the sailor’s knot bowline quite fast…
Like magic he rose back up the tall mast!
He jumped in the dinghy, and the herons they knew…
So, they sprang from the boat and off they all flew!
And Capt. Claus said as the herons took flight
“Fair winds, following seas, and to all a good night!”
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