Three, Two, One, Jump

Three, Two, One, Jump! Three, two, one, Jump! And Dad would spring out To catch the wave we knew was not there. Teenage sons A father who was blind A jest not repeated. But he picked himself up from the sand Thinking he missed the wave And walked back out to try again. Later that Summer I walked out into the waves With my eyes closed. Surf sounds The terror of not knowing which way to shore The bravery it took to body surf blind. I like to think I see him sitting there Tasting the salt and sand on his lips And hearing the crash of ocean waves Head up, Eyes closed, Warm sun on skin Laughing at the joke of launching out too soon And just perhaps riding the waves ashore one last time.