The Ocean

The Ocean sings to a troubled Sailor.

Twice today I stood upon
A steel deck, a hill of grey
While not so grand a sight could I
Find elsewhere on this swelt’ring day.

The roar of wind upon my face
Like accusations in my ear.
The sun above my head it glares
Agreement with the wind I hear.

My eyes are lowered, breath abates
The colors ripple, melt and sway
Blues and greens and whites swim by
And gently sing the wind away.