Reveille
Beckons the day,
“Wake up, my pretties!
Time to set sail!
Now, cast off! Away!”
Tide, teasingly,
Tugs at their sterns.
“Come, sleepy boats,
This way to the sea!”

Since moving to this town by the sea, I have become attracted to sights of sailboats moored in calm harbor waters during the minute or two before night disappears into the advancing day. At those times, I am filled with a quiet certainty that passing fancies of mine involving some derring-do are both possible and advisable. For good or bad, such notions invariably fade as the light strengthens.