Sea Change

The sea is my book today;

I read it wave by wave.

Light changes, wind shifts, the story unfolds,

the afternoon drifts on.

 

The mood is a placid one:

the water more green than blue.

Its movement is rhythmic, predictable,

like metered verse:

neat stanzas piling up on the shore,

politely making room for more.

 

Not like yesterday with its heavy drama,

all driving wind and heaving surf,

a real old-fashioned page-turner.

True to form,

it took no prisoners.

 

Tomorrow

from this same perch,

a brand new yarn awaits:

different book jacket,

different author,

title yet to come.

 

Double Bay, Eleuthera

December, 2004.

 

 

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