Poetry

Ocean times

The silky blueness of the ocean, the froughtiness of the milk sprayed mouth of waves, the timing of the invisible wind sweeping with a high pitched whistle  through the trees. 

The sun peeping through the fluffy clouds like an inquisitive young child. Squinting with an eye and finding a space in the trees where it can shine on the ocean with rays so pure, so magical they light a path from the sky to ocean floor. 

Ocean cover glistening like gold dust, mesmerising to the eye. Ripples like wrinkles on a worried human’s brow washing through the water making spots of colour glisten like twinkling stars. The calming sound of ripples, lapping waves on the earth before they turn back to meet the ocean once more. 

Rays of golden sun fade. The spotlight on the ocean disappears to bring a greenness of curiosity to the ocean’s blueness a marriage that sees each melt into the other. 

The sun trapped for a time by a passing cloud reemerges from its hide like a child playing a game of innocent hide and seek. The warmth, happiness, infectious pleasure from the sun creates another path to the ocean. The green reluctantly slipping from the blue after their fingers had attempted to grasp and find those of the other like lovers so they may stay so close, almost as one. With separation not of choice they do not now know,  when they may return one to the other. 

The waves crash on, bringing with them weeds of different greens. Some soft, tickling and wonderous to sight. Others hard, crunchy, scratching as they float silently through the layers of ocean, some destined for the shore. 

The cycle goes on, with each new change from the heavens above, the colour on the ocean shifts and changes. The mood it feels can deepen, mellow, or even build up to loud rumbling roars with destruction to all around. 

The ocean so vast, so intriguing with secrets we long to hear is a magical entity in sight. A master to the creatures it holds and the barer of life to all about. A friend and also a foe it is a mystery we are yet to solve. From further back than the Celts it is a constant and a must for anything in this world to survive. 

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