Life On the Dock
Like silent sentries in a row
the pylon docks await my arrival.
It is low tide as I step
onto the gangway.
Crusty barnacles cling tenaciously
to the pylons, as salt water
laps the rocky shoreline.
A lanky blue heron
carefully picks it's way
between the fingers
of the dock slips.
A cool breeze picks up
and the boats respond
bobbing to and fro.
Halyard lines clang
against the masts of sailboats
as weather vanes turn
toward the prevailing
northwest winds.
The pungent smell of sea salt air
and the cool mist against my face
evoke thoughts of escape
and high sea adventures.
How I long to sail away
without a care
and maybe never to return.
The glories of the ocean breeze
waft gently over my face
while prism rays draw me
toward the lapping shoreline
and I feel young and free.
This place is where I am truly me
where my spirit is released
and as I breathe in
the salt sea air
I give myself over
to the sea.
Written by Laura Leiser
4/19/2007
Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2014
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