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Without wind, we are but specs of dust with nowhere to go (or something like that). Avid reader Brian Byrne shares his thoughts on waiting for those all important gusts... and it rhymes too!
I speak to ye of tales of old
When men were men and a bath was cold
When planes were nowhere to be seen
And the rain forest was still huge and green
Warrior men sailed o'er the seas
They sat on ships with chillblained knees
And spoke of how they never could
Plan with the wind, anything good
For if you did you'd surely see
The wind is wind and is always free
So before you go and plan an event
You better pray it be heaven sent.
For if you don't, your sails be slack
And you will end up going back
To the place that you left
With your gear in tow
And then you will have, no place to go |
