Cruising

Infinite horizon:  pastel pink

Sweeping gray waves,

sun popping up round, splitting

A spherical fission.

Brisk, warming breeze

     From bow to stern

                                                                                  Layering the sweeping tide

                                                                                Sliding aft-ward

Day Nine, the last day of cruising. Already we are gathering our luggage to set out by nine tonight. Ten days hurried like waves past our balcony.  The last three days slowed the pace by keeping us on board, the churning waves keeping us from Grand Cayman.  I regret missing the island,  because it was part of my reason for taking this particular cruise. But with the driving pace of days after our stop at the Panama Canal, it was a relief to spend three days relaxing and letting time expand, instead of gravitating from one event to the next.

Waking up with radiating sun and a delivered breakfast, choosing a movie, a lecture, an entertainer for the day, made it feel more like a vacation and less like an itinerary.  Enjoyed a cocktail hour before a leisurely, four-course dinner. Nothing like our life at home, even the life of retirement with fewer demands on our time.

Cruising was all I hoped it would be. Settled in a cabin for the duration.  Constant movement and at rest. New port waiting in the morning.  The athletic, singing trombone player. The synchrony of the Vivace violin duet.  The three-course, four-star dinner menu.  And the dawn breaking over our balcony.

Fort Lauderdale again.