What about the frothy water,
churning molecules from mostly murky depths,
makes even landlocked hearts flutter?
Is it the broad horizon, stretched into white,
broken only by the slick backs of mammals
grown huge and perfect in a world
even man has not yet conquered?
Or is it the promise of something
undiscovered, a final country so vast
that even what tickles our bare toes
as they wiggle in the uncountable
are drops of salty knowing that will
come and go a thousand times
before we pass into the realm of no more?
This world where balance equals motion,
where survival means wind shifting,
belies the challenge of land living,
makes us feel our smallness and face
our own knobby knees.
Even if the cool wind touches
our salty skin like a whisper,
even when the silence thunders
like the voice of God.
April 2, 2013