Archive
05/03/10
Round
Uproarious frothy-white combers, Undulating from the deep-blue hue at horizon's border, Through that mystical turquoise mid-distance, Toward the tawny shore, metamorphosing into aquamarine — A vast gathering of voices performing just for us.
Standing, off-balance, in the sinking saturated sand, Holding hands, embracing, kissing, listening, listening, We sense that the song the sea keeps repeating Is a canon as old as its chorus's primordial source. Before we know it, we've joined the ocean's resounding round.
05/03/10
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