CONFESSION OF ONE WHO LIVES A BIT INLAND

I’ve come to love – and fear – the ocean.

It – we love to say “she” – is moody. Tempestuous. Alluring.

Quite unlike a meadow or garden, no matter its charm. (We’d never say “she” regarding them.)

The crabs I find in the tide pools are small, usually too little to eat. And the fiddler, with one outsized claw, rarely ventures this far north. But I love the possibility of adding music.

Especially as I listen to her roar.

~*~

Fiddler Crab 1

For my poetry collection and others, click here.

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