on the wind
on the sea
following the line
of swelling waves
parallel
to the coast
here
is being
the air
and . . .
nothing
only
a direction
forward
unending
and the sound
the only sound
is the constant sound
of wind
fruitlessly rushing
to ruffle feathers
held smooth
and firm
in flight
landward
lies the ruffle
the disturbance
and
the tangle
the dismay and the distress
don’t look
not even
a glance
fly straight
into the sun
reflected
~
I particuarly like how the poem turns on “landward lies / the ruffle.”
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Thanks Liz. One more sea poem needed to end the section.
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