CROSSING THE LINE

CROSSING THE LINE
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April 5, 2008 19:42 GMT
Latitude Zero at the 130th meridean
An offering of Tequila to our King Neptune...
And a tribute to Correolis from Candine:

From Polywogs to Shellbacks we have made the transition,
our slime has turned trusty as we realize a vision.

Although wandering among squalls presented a quandary,
that blew us and drenched us and ruined our laundry,

and while sheets of white lightening lit up the sky,
we knew that we weren't really going to die,

for compared to the storms off Oregon's coast,
this was a walk in the park, at the most.

(Albeit a long walk, across a very big park...)

Now with the doldrums behind us awash in our wake,
we look to the south at the landfalls we'll make.

And though Polaris has vanished it isn't a loss,
for we gaze up ahead at the great southern cross.

At eighty-five degrees, the ocean's a jacuzzi,
the air is even hotter, sometimes its one-oh-twosie!

(conversion to Celsius is simple and dirty,
just divide by two after you take away thirty)

Now the brisk southern trades blow strong and steady,
and for the Marquesas we run, downwind and ready,

escorted by dolphins, and many others below,
who we can't quite see, but are there, so we know

we'll have a safe passage the rest of the way,
having made it this far, on this special day.

And while there wasn't a bump nor painted line on the sea
to tell us we'd done it, officially,

we all new the moment it happened today,
when the flush in the head went 'round the other way.