Raging seas and inky skies,
a wave barrels down on my small
fishing boat, and where am I?
I am helplessly clinging to my
meager wooden craft.
The indigo swell crashes down on
my maple-wood vessel, capsizing it.
O ocean! Spare me from your
horrible punishment, for I am
sailing to Paradise, where the
golden sun sits like a saucer of
yellow milk in the robin’s egg-blue sky;
where the cherry-red flowers smell sweeter
than an afternoon on a calm summer’s day,
where there is no conflict,
where all is peace.
The sky bursts into color, lavender mixing with
emerald in the snowy clouds. The amber sun
lowers to the horizon, just a half-circle in the west.
O ocean! Looking coal-black yourself, with
milky tips, the colors seem to calm
you down, gently pushing my chestnut boat
onto shore, where I dismount.
The khaki sand beneath me welcomes my feet,
the grass gently waving in the breeze.
The crimson flowers grow in the olive grass,
and you lap at their roots, wanting to live
and taste their sweet smell, sweeter than
a summer’s day.
Stepping onto the emerald-green grass
with sand sticking between my toes,
tying my burlap hammock to a tree, I
lay back and relax, gently swaying in
the breeze. My eyelids slide closed.
O ocean! How the music of the leaves
rustling and the crickets singing their
nightly concerto blends perfectly with
the soft swish-splash of your waves
swashing against the shore lulls me
gently to sleep.