Sea, she

 

 

 

Sea, she

 

The sea calls me.

Some days I answer,

Worship at the threshold

Like an awed neophyte.

Other days I resist,

Turn around to woods,

Walk away, fingers in ears

Refuse to hear the siren sound.

I return, of course:

Sit on shingle, skim a stone,

Watch the ever-changing moods

Never the same from one day to the next:

Storms and smiles,

Shimmers and shades.

Natural born killer

Provider of plenty

Endless, mysterious,

Yet fluidly simple.

No wonder they refer

To oceans as She!

 

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4 thoughts on “Sea, she

    • They are indeed.
      I met an old sailor a few years back who referred to the sea as his mistress whom he couldn’t stay away from though it had cost him his marriage…

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