Across the sails, wind cuts, puffs and flaps. - Without it, the full sails would soon collapse. - The bow cuts cleanly through the surf with splash to either side - while forward movement is felt or at least implied. - Each sound comes clear to those aboard - while sailors, each, of their own accord, - would search horizons within scope - and watch for distant land with hope.
Below decks, within isolation, - oarsmen wait in hesitation. - When swift forward motions cease, - they know itís the end of their ease; - their rest was but a lull - while winds propelled the scull.
Their ears picked up the change in wake, - so each acknowledged that their break - would end once more - and they would take up oar to row the boat ashore. - Another sound would soon be heard - as rows of oars quickly transferred - waters that once lie ahead - into their wake behind, instead. - At sea, with land yet to be found, - men reacted to the sounds.
A glancing blow, nil felt, yet heard, - broke short partially spoken word. - Ducking low, as to reduce - the chance of artillery abuse. - Heard through the trees, somewhere ahead, - were enemies worthy of dread. - The snap of stray twig underfoot - betrayed a presence chance mistook - as enemy somewhere ahead. - Determining friend or foe with dread, - he knelt with rifle shifting swift - while cocking ear for sounds to sift; - sounds that would help identify - the actions that personify - a presence of friendly force - or deadly enemy as source.
Across the land, within their bounds, - men reacted to the sounds.
The whine and shriek of forced air - broke past the metal cockpit where - the pilot broke into a sweat - when all that he could do was let - the gunner do his level best - with weaponry they could attest - as the latest available, - a truth yet unassailable. - An engine stutter, slight suspected, - yet all thatís heard seems unaffected.
Scanning, eyes dart side to side, - while all sounds to be heard denied - a presence of foe nearby - within his vision of the sky. - Knowing allies fly behind, - yet to above and below heís blind, - the pilot tries to hear a threat - before enemies can close the net - and trap his squadron, unaware. - Danger lurks in the air. - They listen for a threat nearby - that could knock them from the sky.
Within this game of hare and hounds, they all listen for the sounds.
Where safe haven is to be found, man is led there by the sounds.
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