White metal and wood against azure blue.
Trails of frothy puffs sail across the dividing line
between ocean and infinity.
Guardian angels of the sea
in feathered robes of white, gray,
and speckled brown,
from on high....circle and protect the sacred catch.
Like hope on wing, they worship
what lies within these white vessels...
looking for fishy sacraments
to satisfy their devotion.
Surfers coast above the waves to shore,
effortlessly, like driftwood and seaweed.
For a moment, both near and far
(as if in dance),
man and metal and wood...
synchronize to the rhythm of the sea.
Faces walk the beach line...blurry colored motion
transcending into shape and character
with each step closer.
Life's consequences etched into each face
by individual spirit.
The multitude...preoccupied...
with goals and agendas,
in contemplation,
in their own aloneness,
or in some self-imposed isolation.
This one stops for a friendly word.
That one waves from afar.
Waves close in...
a liquid curfew swallowing
beach and sand.
~~~(JoOhio1) JFS 10.99~~~ |
