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!
ha ha ….love it.
mostly I stare at ponds and streams.
are they feminine too???
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Probably are all feminine, Mark. In antiquity all the spirits of water(naiads) were depicted as female, though the gods of such things seemed to be either.
I live in a community that used to rely on the sea for its living; I talk to the fishermen when I am out and I hear such stories. I guess I am lucky they talk to me, though, as an outsider.
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Love the poem. She calls me too, but the forests have me for now 🙂
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I have two ancient woodlands between me and the sea shore, Madison. I walk through one first, along the beach, back up through the second and then return via the edge of the first in a six mile loop.
heaven. I may be the luckiest woman around.
xx
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