Super sailing, but not on the sea,
At the marina where the winds blow free.
Young sailors learning on small sunfish;
Competition for attention is still stiff.
Orange, red, blue, yellow, but mostly white,
Sails, like water wings in flight.
Tacking as the tell-tales blow,
Close to keeling, for the show.
What it must be like to be young,
And dream of waters farther flung,
As they set out under the watchful gaze
Of those offering the wisdom of their ways.