Nose up—circle
like a seal—eye
the horizon—
its undulations of change—
the play of light and dark—
hills building—
a mountain of uneven weight
rising into a huge wall.
Swim towards it!
Suddenly suspended under
it’s height, you are engulfed—
for an instant—
in an arc of pure stillness—
pure light.

Toss the body forward—
join this rushing wave—
head jutting out of its curling edge—
roar of roiling water in your ears—
sweep into shore riding
these wet shoulders.

Now a vortex of shells—
foam—
sand-tossed body—
shaken—

Get up—
turn—
dash back into
the churning surf—
catch the crest
of the world
once more!

Published Over A Threshold of Root, Sandra Larson, Pudding House Chapbook Seried, 2007