Sailing, no stars, midnight sun in the sky
as enchanted lands mysteriously float by.
Steady as she goes as we sleep in our berths
from fiords past islands and into firths,
surging like Vikings preparing for raids,
navigating seas and swells with simple aids.
Anchoring, we invade inviting shores:
gawking, plundering, . . . wait, there’s stores?
Here are quaint shops stuffed with trinkets:
scarves and sweaters, tams and blankets.
Here is a skyline a cathedral frames
“Impossible to be lost!” the priest proclaims.
Here are standing stones more ancient than Rome:
their purpose may be lost, yet wonder hits home.
Here is a tour guide so jazzed, so facile
leading our assault on Edinburgh Castle!
Connecting with locals, telling tall tales,
we have a moment sharing poems and ales.
Alas, the tender takes us back once more:
a seaport glimpsed, a heart left ashore.
Captain weighs anchor and plots our next course.
Feasting on fresh fish, we toast the Norse.
Open ocean cruising, how soothing it can be
when winds are fair with a following sea!
