Catboat Dreams

The winter wears on, and our little catboat slumbers in her barn among the other catboats nestled away till spring. She must be stirring now that the days are holding more light, roused from the blankness of hibernation to dream of sailing out toward Scraggy Neck and Seal Rocks toward the open water where Cleveland Ledge light juts like a floating turret in Buzzards Bay. She can feel her sharp prow cleaving the waves and the wind tautening her sail so that she pushes harder, straining to go out, out farther, as far as the wind will take her. She throws spray off her cheeks, heeling hard, jubilant now in the wind and sun and saltwater, her lines thrumming, her rudder wagging. Onward she drives, exultant: Sail me away, she sings in her dream, sail me away.

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