The sky and sea run parallel, or so it seems. Sky
Contiguous, at least, as free attachment,
committed only to movement and time.
While the sea chuckles in currents
as the day and nighttime shifts
clasp her–as does the sky–
she buoys who lap her up
or swallows them down,
floating or drowning,
life-giving or taking;
Yet he hovers his
in shallow-air support.
She who risks his domain
will surely succumb, sink below
surface silhouettes traveling rippled
rivulet toe tips, riding her once-in-a-lifetime. Sea