Windward Passage

Michael Longcor

Michael's material is available from Firebird Arts and Music.

Windward Passage

Copyright ©1991 by Michael Longcor- All Rights Reserved
Used by permission

The reels are singin' softly as vibrations through the hull,
And the trim computer's kickin' in its chips.
The sunlight’s blowin' homeward, and with every sail stretched full,
We'll hit pickup point to offload one more trip.

This old solar scow's been sailin' since the day that I was born,
When my daddy ran the ore for Delta Chrome.
But the sweetest trip she'll ever make's the one we're makin' now,
Running down the windward passage to our home.
Running down the windward passage to our home.

The sunside armor's peelin', and the reels have too much slack,
And it takes a week to get her up to speed.
The mainsail's full of pinholes, and the coffeemaker's cracked,
But I can't think of anything I need.

As twelve hundred klicks of sail begin to furl, and keel jets hiss,
And the pickup point sends grapnels out to roam,
I finally have the chance to think of one I love and miss,
Running down the windward passage to our home.
Running down the windward passage to our home.

You'll never call me wealthy, and I haven't come too far,
And there's folks I know would make me out a fool.
But they've never cruised the system, and they've never sailed the stars,
With ten million miles of sunlight for their fuel.

My great-grandad bossed a shuttle, and his grandpa drove a truck,
And my mama hauled with jets for L-Five Dome,
But no inbound run was sweeter than the one we're makin' now,
Running down the windward passage to our home.
Running down the windward passage to our home.