When the waves roll in
And wash over,
They do not just push,
They also pull.
Sway to the movement,
Stumble on the ocean floor,
Crash through
The cymbal, the steady beat,
The steady shake and hum of cicadas in the trees,
The distant reverberation of the unknown.
The quiet chitter of flitting wings,
Gleeful Anticipation,
The silent predator hovers in the sun,
At first a rustle, and then, the wind whirls a gust…
It is a beautiful day for creation.
The clouds accumulate
And dissipate
Seamlessly.
The tempo fades and quiets.
The wind pushes forth encouragement.
“Onward. Onward.”
Keep Writing.
©Christine Samad 2021