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..
WOW, beautiful. Welcome back poet!
yes yes yes….good good good….you are doing it…you are doing it…