Light colorful boats so fragile
Under the breath of the singing wind,
They go, come and flicker
In a slight swing.
On the blue swell that laps
The sharp ones go nodding,
And the ripples the cahote
From the beach to the sunset.
Click to enlarge the pictures.
Antique sailors of yesteryear.
Their mast is leaning backwards,
Shaping the shade of the shrouds
On the triangular sail
Poem written by Vette de Fonclare