Tuesday, July 5, 2011

A swimmers poem

The buoy in the distance
bobs orange and welcoming
Its color is meant to call caution
instead it begs come hither

and strokes matched with fins
out to the buoy I swim
day after day, sunrise and sunset
my wet ritual of salty peace

indifferent to the shadows 
that wander below
from the waves of this ocean
my strength daily grows

and as hand taps orange buoy
and back I then stroke
my mind, nay my sole
is gently afloat.

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