I grew up far from the ocean ... any ocean ... so the one time that I got to walk on a real ocean beach was ... to put it mildly ... a most memorable occasion.
Oh, I had glimpsed the ocean at the movies ... in books or magazines ... but never the real thing.
I think I was most impressed, when a face-to-face meeting finally came, with the immensity of it ... its power ... its beauty ... its music.
I tried to get some of that music in this little poem:
BEACH MUSIC
Waves come tumbling
onto the docile shore,
flinging foamy fingers
across the ochre plane.
Teeming with bubbles,
they search and settle,
soothingly diminuendo,
on a healing chord.
Eliciting a sigh
from pliant, sandy keys,
the fingers slide off
into the lap of the sea,
Oh, I had glimpsed the ocean at the movies ... in books or magazines ... but never the real thing.
I think I was most impressed, when a face-to-face meeting finally came, with the immensity of it ... its power ... its beauty ... its music.
I tried to get some of that music in this little poem:
BEACH MUSIC
Waves come tumbling
onto the docile shore,
flinging foamy fingers
across the ochre plane.
Teeming with bubbles,
they search and settle,
soothingly diminuendo,
on a healing chord.
Eliciting a sigh
from pliant, sandy keys,
the fingers slide off
into the lap of the sea,
where joyous whitecaps
merrily urge them,
jostle and encourage them
to play it all again.
© 1998
(originally published in Capper's)
Today's word: joyous
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