At Sea in the Sargasso Sea
One of my favorite things to do between voyages is to peruse the ship’s library and discover what literary treasures have been left behind. I find everything from romance novels and crime mysteries to business magazines and travel guides. Once in a while there is a newly published book on natural history. The latter I crave and usually devour in lieu of the other stuff. For example and at the moment, I am reading Great Waters, by Deborah Cramer, the story of “An Atlantic Passage,” the water we are now in and about the ocean’s moods and muses. In the wings I hold The Eye of the Albatross by Carl Safina, a beautiful tale about a lone albatross named Amelia, praising her will to survive despite the perils of the long line fisheries in the Southern Ocean. I never tire of good natural history books.
Tonight after a recap on fleeing flying fish and pelagic planktonic Portuguese “man-of-war” jellyfish, I strolled through the library. We had just finished a fantastic barbeque out on deck as the sun went down in a blaze of glory, all the while watching for a hopeful glimpse at a “green flash.” In want of more literature for this, my Daily Expedition Report, and heading straight for the reference section, I stopped abruptly, for the title on a new book caught my eye. Somehow (perhaps by fate) the pages fell open to the poem below; herein reprinted in part.
Excerpted from a collection entitled “per se” and from the poem “Not Sea’s Task” by Jack Veeger
As by magician’s hand her image had appeared
I had implored horizon to accede to lifelong wish
And there she stood as wrought from water’s crystal clutter
Her hair wind-tossed, her gown in wispy water folds
And when she spoke it was in sea’s accented tongue
Lilting and hypnotic, cadence as imposed by nymphs
She shook her head and spark-like droplets scattered
"Come” she beckoned "and let us take to waterways”
Thank you Jack, for allowing me to quote you in verse, and thank you for traveling on the National Geographic Endeavour. Most of all, I appreciate your leaving behind a small yet inspirational part of yourself for all to enjoy.
One of my favorite things to do between voyages is to peruse the ship’s library and discover what literary treasures have been left behind. I find everything from romance novels and crime mysteries to business magazines and travel guides. Once in a while there is a newly published book on natural history. The latter I crave and usually devour in lieu of the other stuff. For example and at the moment, I am reading Great Waters, by Deborah Cramer, the story of “An Atlantic Passage,” the water we are now in and about the ocean’s moods and muses. In the wings I hold The Eye of the Albatross by Carl Safina, a beautiful tale about a lone albatross named Amelia, praising her will to survive despite the perils of the long line fisheries in the Southern Ocean. I never tire of good natural history books.
Tonight after a recap on fleeing flying fish and pelagic planktonic Portuguese “man-of-war” jellyfish, I strolled through the library. We had just finished a fantastic barbeque out on deck as the sun went down in a blaze of glory, all the while watching for a hopeful glimpse at a “green flash.” In want of more literature for this, my Daily Expedition Report, and heading straight for the reference section, I stopped abruptly, for the title on a new book caught my eye. Somehow (perhaps by fate) the pages fell open to the poem below; herein reprinted in part.
Excerpted from a collection entitled “per se” and from the poem “Not Sea’s Task” by Jack Veeger
As by magician’s hand her image had appeared
I had implored horizon to accede to lifelong wish
And there she stood as wrought from water’s crystal clutter
Her hair wind-tossed, her gown in wispy water folds
And when she spoke it was in sea’s accented tongue
Lilting and hypnotic, cadence as imposed by nymphs
She shook her head and spark-like droplets scattered
"Come” she beckoned "and let us take to waterways”
Thank you Jack, for allowing me to quote you in verse, and thank you for traveling on the National Geographic Endeavour. Most of all, I appreciate your leaving behind a small yet inspirational part of yourself for all to enjoy.
