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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ha ha ….love it.
mostly I stare at ponds and streams.
are they feminine too???
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.
Love the poem. She calls me too, but the forests have me for now 🙂
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