BROWN and white birds run on the BEACH
Children build a mountain of sand
More miniature BUTTE than Alp
Perfect in its imperfections
No one wants to end the day
Butts firmly in the sand
Reluctant to BUDGE
Even as parents start to call
And the sound of a distant BUGLE
Is carried on the breeze

Georg’ann

Captain Barca-Hall always kept his pencils with a sharp POINT. His workspace had not one but two sharpeners, which he would happily SHARE so long as they were used in his space and not borrowed for use anywhere else on the boat.

It’s not uncommon for certain possessions and habits to take on almost superstitious levels of meaning, as if they were imbued with magic charms of protection.

On the LEDGE over his desk was a framed picture of a blonde beauty resting on a velveteen couch with a grey kitten curled asleep on the soft pillow of her tiny belly BULGE. Her eyes are looking right at the camera, fully engaged in the moment.

The captain often talked to her in an easy, playful manner. And sometimes with worry or painful longing. You could almost hear her responding, and imagine her hand reaching out to hold his, pulling him close without disturbing the kitty.

Just above the photo hung a BUGLE, which was rarely blown.
It had been purchased in some antique store years ago and seemingly had no real value or intriguing story behind it, yet the Captain never left port without this shiny noise maker.

Heather