White sails

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White sail, sailing, over the water.

Barely a breath to help you move.

White canvas, taut and stiff

Or billowing softly in the breeze.

Hot sun and morning mist,

A twinkle of ripples follow your wake.

Sails, tall and fair.

Sails standing out across the lake,

Bright against the wooded hill.

Your beacon shines to me.



Drop a pebble in a pond, or watch drips of water fall into a bowl. You get ripples moving outwards, they reach a side or an edge, then bounce back.

Sometimes the edge is soft. Grass or sedges perhaps. Then the ripple is absorbed, dampened down. Or ripples turn into waves, waves into swelling storms. It depends on the weather.