The ocean is not fresh water
As it is parted in a vessel's wake
It forms a cream of phosphorescence
Unlike fresh water

Night at sea is an overload
Of sensations new to the unseasoned
Mariner

Night Black velvet skies salted with Chrystal stars
In uninmagined density unrelieved
By the bias of city glows

Swells and waves assume proportions beyond
Comprehension being mundane and common in daylight

Time becomes an organic measurement racing when the seas rage
Contracting as problems arise stopping when an unintended something
Takes control
Slowing interminably when downwind alone at the helm