while standing

statue-still

she watches

from the cliffs

above bodega’s

head

as a gray sea

tosses wind-whipped

white-caps angrily

upon each surface

only to be changed,

then

dissipated by

water/wind/motion

then re-forming

in the

blink of an eye…

sea lions

tossed around

like sea kelp

through wave

after wave

methodically struggle

against an ocean’s

crankiness

fighting

wave to wave

toward the

mating rocks…

she watches

while standing

statue still and

listens

hearing their

barks,  messages

delivered through

the voice of

a brutal wind:

survival isn’t always

a crystal-clear

azure sea

sleepily rocking while

floating you calmly

toward an

empty, sandy shore

waiting in the distance…

its finding your way

back

through rocky

impossible waters

that push you

fighting

toward

that place you

surely

thought would

never come again:

toward choosing life..