White Horses

The storm that whips the tranquil sea
Creeps up with frightening speed
On unsuspecting vessels it
Unleashes watery greed

On salt soaked deck the sailors work
To turn the craft about
Through roar of wind and pelt of rain
The deck-hand's voices shout

Within the churn a thousand beasts
That broil and heave and foam
In vain attempts to overturn
Those sailing far from home

The battle rages through the night
Ship versus storm and sea
With thunderclaps and lightening bolts
To hail each victory

Then tempered waters finally calm
And sun shines on the boat
Now bruised and battle weary, yet
Defiantly afloat