Photo: Jack O’Shea
Gliding above the reef below,
Hidden, glimpses of yellow and brown.
Waves tumble, crash, overflow,
Out here, no need to frown.
Constant swell coming of the southwest
Naked, remaining only, tiny shorts
Sometimes the dire need for a lifejacket, inflatable vest,
The wind whistles through the Betio ports.
You look north and take in your own backyard,
A like-minded individual reads her book.
Once again caught off guard,
Peering over another mountain, into a desirable nook.
The game begins again and it is not old fashioned,
A new spot, a new chase, always better along the way.
Then remind yourself of the renewing passion,
No need to hold thy head in dismay.
Find your thoughts wandering to older places.
Do you miss them? Should you keep on going?
Surely they are plainly, now, just old faces.
Titillating to imagine jumping aboard another Boeing.
Community advances, growth, and personal achievement,
A recipe for the attempted capacity build.
Nevertheless reminded of a nations bereavement,
The daily fact that the ocean is the one whose fueled.
