The Sea
Oh what is it about the sea?
How I wish it were certain to me.
Is it the waves with their bubbling white tops?
Or is it the fact that it never ends - never stops.
Perhaps it’s the power it looks to possess,
Or so it’s actions seem to express.
One moment so calm like beauty just born,
The next with the wind gives fear for a storm.
With its groans and its grinds that puzzle great minds,
It’s supplies of fish to frequent our dish,
Such marvels so bold I suppose it will hold,
Still secret from me the truth of the sea.
Aboard the ‘Northern Gift' Trawler - Icelandic Waters 1971
