Sitting on a box of 50-calibre ammunition,
Admiring a Japanese sunset which glows
On a ceremony, full of Naval tradition...
The seagulls land on the water nearby,
Making cat noises, unlike the crows
Black, bomber-like, cutting across the sky...
It's a restful moment on a ship whose mission,
If necessary, is to destroy and make things die...
But there's nothing kinetic about right now,
Where, in waning light, ends a ceremony to greet,
And officially confer,
A new commander to the fleet,
Who shoulders his fate, looking beyond the bow,
To lead his awful-deadly ships, strong & sure,
Not necessarily to fight, but first to deter.
Chain of command unbroken,
Warships and crews will continue
To work night and day,
Allowing millions to rest unwoken,
Maintaining the peace, for a sailor's pay...
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