Forget your cares.
You walk the beach.
You pause to view the silver surf awhile.
The sun sets.
Turning ink, the sea's presence is a continuous roar,
an occasional flash, and then the winds howl like evil spirits.
Were you to ignore these warnings of storm,
the high water would roll you out without a prayer
to the darts of squid,
to the swim of sharks,
to the habitats of lop-sided beings
traversing the bottom like alien creatures.
If such a fate befalls us...
God spare us!
May we never drown.
Not in water
Not in self pity
But if such a fate were to befall us, though,
betcha, our troubles will forget us lickety-split
sooner than the scavengers slated to pick our bones.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment