Cacophonous wind carries seagull drawls,
the bell buoy’s alarm and bleating boats.
Sweet breaths take in morning laughter,
fingers skimming the chiming waters;
the harmony of the sea
tickling the Surfer’s soul,
saline breeze against His back,
breaking waves beneath His toes.
Crying plaudit, the art of elation,
wax and salt, and squinting eyes,
greet the sun of auriferous creation.
Glitters what is born of Pastel Dawn.
A sky of free-thought and clarity,
testing the nerves, tempting Humanity-
recall no concept of finality,
spill like a wingless cherub
smiling inside the curling blue.
Poised, there, in the Glass Barrel
is the conception of Stillness–
where the rains never penetrate.
Surfer, encompass the ride eternally-
the ocean pulses through Your veins.