Ocean Pulse
Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009
Rising, curling, foam unfurling, waves of cold Salema sea,
Next one coming, meet it running, plunge into the safe beneath.
Behind crashing, hard sand-smashing that could knock me to my knees,
Here you hold me – Look! I’m floating! – blood-beat drumming in my ears.
Waves keep surging, endless burgeon sent up from the darkness deep,
I stay playing, breath delaying, surfacing your mystery
that’s always saying all to me.
You’re really grooving on the sea? I glad you’re feeling so good.
Only in my imagination and memory at the moment — It was longing sparked this! But soon again, soon.
I cannot see the ocean. My creek serves the same purpose…
Mountain Stream through Fairyland
Boulders in a stream
interrupt continuum of flow
since its first dawn
sprinkled jewelglints
on tumbling acqua droplets.
Larger rocks channel the rush
towards gaps speeding up
to catapult and arc
ballistically, eddy, carve
dirt, rush on.
Flat rocks become playsets
for children, waterslides to cooling pools,
steppingstones for fastidious puppies
who do not care to drip from
well-groomed coats.
…
Orna, I love this. It’s like all your writing.It seems to be simple but there’s more going on than first glance.I really love the last line.Thank you.