by Willie Blevins
Be Quiet, don’t move or the cat’s paw will pass you by unattended
Whistle, rub the backstay, the sailors equivalent of “spare change?”
When the water looks like a freshly cleaned mirror, light a cigar, blow some bubbles,
Adjust the helm for maximum shade
Pretend twelve knots of wild-flower fresh breeze is coming in over the quarter
Make the sails believe it.