I Hug the Ocean More Than Any Tree
From shore to deep, the colors of the sea,
tan sand and white meringue bursting forth.
Can you picture the lovers on the edge
long after they're gone?
Footprints of fun
and frolic.
The ghost, of bikini and boxers
painted pretty with tropical flowers, on bods.
The ocean wall, an enigmatic blue and sand monster
like a cloudy day sky. It has the look of adventure
as it cascades.
I want to climb it’s peak,
examine it’s underwings.
Toes sink, knees deep, waist high -
I’m just an earthling enamored with the mystic sea.
When on a cruise deck, and God shut the lights off,
except for the moon
and stars,
I want to lean over -
don’t stop me as I dive with my prayers and imagination
into the frothing lullaby -
its rocking,
sloshing,
satisfying.
I hug the ocean more than any tree. It cools me,
surrounds me with
danger,
love,
romance…yes,
swashbuckles me, captures me, and lets me go.
The ocean let Jonah go and so did the great fish,
but I will not let the sea free me so easily. This salt
has it in her blood,
even standing too close
to the rocks
near the lighthouse that illuminates a warning.
Mrs. Muir saw the Captain in her dreams, full-bearded -
the cape cottage window open to the endless tide.
The danger now is not sharks nor shipwrecks
but the needles in the sand, the chasing off
of blanketed lovers by the unsavory beach pirates.
Us earthlings
must clean up our ebb and flow.
Illuminate me on pink sands. Draw me into a rapscallion tale.
I shall cross swords on the deck as the sea comes to my rescue.
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