Waves retreat, darkly deep, drawing me in, like eyes,
beyond foam green
beyond blue light
beyond churning life.
Silky soft voices
susurrant highs, like gulls,
blending undertones,
like resonating
waters turning sand.
Reassuring,
like rocking in cradling arms
or like hands reaching forth,
as recurring rows
of white, line upon line.
Immersion
is a wave crashing gasp
of requisite awe.
Momentarily, a touch of an ocean
is enough.
Dianne Gross-Giese, 1-2010/7-2011
Briefly back to blogging, after a grueling work schedule, wrestling with the economic downturn. A forced vacation after appendectomy had awakened my muses.
