Bay 3

Glass again at Mid-Day
Awaiting ...

For what does she wait?
The temporary Harvesters
to sink a line to take Life
from her Depths?

Awaiting, Perhaps a Ripple
from a Stone?

Isolated quietly
From the ominous cousins of her existence
The Gulf, the Sea,
The world at large.

Be it so that I might still Myself
Not unlike that Heart of Hers.

And so, I am like her ... still.
Awaiting; and not
Receeding.

She and I awaiting a Warmth
A warmth she senses from the Sun,
She feels it on her Mouth
and Fills her Belly with Peace.

A Warmth rising from the South
to stir her Waters,
to Stir my passions
Deeply, steadily.

The ebb and flow --
of life
of Love
of Sea and Land --
Cycles; as in
A Dance, a Chorus
In Harmony
In Unison
In Solo Eloquently.

We await, she and I
For Spring
to Swell and fill our Hearts again.

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