With sails it treads, gliding across waters never read.
Wood creaks, wood splinters.
Up and down, Down and out, the sea will flow.

Guided by winds, steered by prayer.
One sits aloft, while others hurry below.
One steers while other shouts, many work to keep the tub afloat.

All day and all night, always drifting with the current.
Makes way to day, toward a new land it says.
Months on end bellow, flapping while ripples.
When up high a shout, a new adventure is about.
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Last one for now. :P