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Sliced Oceans
June 1, 2017
The scent of leaves sounds trees
Above the water; a sharp breeze,
Skipping the oasis with ease,
Whining jagged rocks to seize.
Now the wind is absent here,
Its howls that threatened to sear
Any poor wanderer's ear,
Gone, for stillness to appear.
The crinkling looks a pale blue sea,
Marked by cries of gulls when free.
It crashes heavy, rolling, endless to be.
Never ceasing, for you or for me.
© Luke J., Minetrista, MN
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