On that morning
after the first thunderstorm
when the wind was still warm and moist and gusty
and the waves blew in boisterous cross directions,
light gray-green, hazy and salty

I had no fear
of the caution-warning voices,
no fear of surf crash or riptide
or the blanket enjoinment
against swimming alone

I knew when I got down the beach a ways,
I would go in boldly,
running down to the place
where the round stones tumbled
and I could dive through the turbulence
into the calm
so I could bob in the delightful coolness,
up and down with the waves

I felt so surely my belonging
in the elemental lustiness,
in the dance of water,
in the spray of salt,
that I didn’t know what could possibly
convince me to come out

Till suddenly it was time
to ride a wave
and find my foothold in the flowing sand
and step out while strong water
grabbed at my legs,
dig my toes in,
climb out into the morning wind.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 1, 2016