Footprints on the sea,
clenching salt yet mutable.
Fine art of white caps.
Feathery white lines
cotton wool stretched across thin
folding and rolling
Stelliform sea shells,
a walk of fame on the shore;
Sparkling foamy tide;
Designs in the sand,
a path that’s ever changing;
Sunlit ambition;
Fearless ray of gold,
success is flavored potent;
Smile into richness;
Engulfed in the wild,
hypnotized by choppy waves;
Out of control ride;
Hunger will never tap out,
until you reach the white caps.
Glistening whitecaps
caught in a downpour swimming
lounging in the sea.
Lake Michigan churns
waves pushing to shore
restless morning dreams
a blanket of clouds.
Waves pushing to shore
life’s undercurrents
a blanket of clouds
the moon and stars hide.
Life’s undercurrents
tear at the shoreline
the moon and stars hide
on a late December morning.
Tearing at the shoreline
an ebb and flow
on a late December morning
an endless sea of tides.
An ebb and flow
I see a vision
of an endless sea of tides
and listen to a song in the wind.
I see a vision
of the sun peaking through the sky
and listen to a song in the wind
as Lake Michigan churns.
Whitecaps prancing, upon the shore,
sky streaked with a pink reddish hue,
angelic without the essence of time,
foliage covered in a wet morning dew.
Seagulls gliding effortlessly in the sky,
sea lions on the rocks along the shore,
tranquillity in the air ever bold yet shy,
there to enjoy, it knocks upon your door.
Waves crashing, dancing upon the rocks,
wind blowing in the air with a salty mist,
fishing boats tied tightly to the old docks,
moistness upon your lips resembles a kiss.
In the inlet a sleepy village sits upon a hill,
smoke drifting up from stone chimney tiers,
a calm quietness lurks about, forever so still,
while the ocean roars rumble far and near.
The sea has a majestic beauty all it’s own,
nature’s own canvas set to color and tone,
to see it’s beauty, one only has to be shown,
in the sand, by the sea, you are never alone.
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