Word Picture, February 12, 2020
Early in the morning,
Before the sun has cleared the cliff,
It is the performance art of waves,
The combination of sound and sight,
That soothes my soul.
A dark line rolls in
Across the cerulean sea
Toward the beach.
It builds into a mighty viridian concave wave.
The razor top edge glints with morning pink.
Then a thundering collapse
Of glorious surf and sound
Rolls along the entire shore.
When the energy is spent,
Only quiet flat froth remains,
Until the next wave arrives.
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