The Waters

Learning the craft of canoeing, I was thrilled by the ease we moved, gliding effortlessly across the lake, skimming the surface like dragon flies. The row boat had been fun at first; I mastered maneuvering it with the oars imprisoned in their oarlocks. With it I could plod on water; the canoe let me dance. A slight curve of the paddle blade was all that was needed to change course, turn from snag or rock, get a closer view of the heron in the reeds.
All rowboats have to yield to a passing canoe for a lumbering boat is easier to stop than a lively, freely moving craft. It is a law of the waters. In my canoe I conquer worlds, exploring the unknown around the next bend, gliding past the row boats with my queenly head held high, scarcely noticing slower, subservient vessels as I go.
But then! A sloop approaches dressed in full sail, bearing down the lane where I have been master of the waves. Superior in size and speed, it is unable to slow for an insignificant obstacle in its path. Now it is I who must give way, moving aside, stopping, yielding. It is the law of the waters.
WC-Canoe-nose2The Sunfish gives way to the yacht which yields to the ocean liner, for the behemoth is ruler of all. Too large for easy maneuverability, it plows ahead, often pushing aside or sinking lesser craft which do not heed the law of the waters. To change its course takes far more than a simple turn of paddle blade. To change its course requires reversal of engine, turning the screws, steering accurately.
In our lesser craft, we stand aside or even back paddle, submitting to the liner which will have its way lest we be pulled under, crushed, obliterated.

When the giant is on the waters, the dancing stops. It is the law.

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