*Sea Fever*

I have always loved the ocean, the smell of salt air, the sand between my toes and the sunsets off Sanibel Island. Sometimes I literally crave it - the calmness and serenity that it returns.

I hate to be near the sea when it is stormy and wild; when it is quiet and serene; when it is dark and moody. In all of those moods, I see myself.

My recollection of the ocean has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day. It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful.

Near the sea, we forget to count the days.

The tide rises, the tide falls, the twilight darkens, the curlew calls.

The voice of the sea speaks to the soul.

"Sea Fever" (John Masefield)

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky.
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.
And the wheel's kick and wind's song and the white sail's shaking.
And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
is a wild call and clearly a call that may not be denied.
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life
To the gull's way and whale's way where the wind is like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.