Each day the sea shows up

I’ve always dreamed of living near the sea, and now I do.

I have a love affair going with it. 

Daily I must ride the 8 blocks to gaze on it

alongside other geezer gazers,

To me she is mother/provider —


unfathomable vastness,

mighty, ripping, or calm lake

Magnificent beauty,


There are surfers in wetsuits playing on power rolls called waves, controlled by the sliver of moon, faint yet there.

Boats ply for fish that reproduce,

still somehow overcoming carelessness by her beneficiaries.

She reminds me — she shouts — today, poets, all is well.

Pray to my goodness

Because you ARE it too.





Author: Catherine W. Scott

Grandmother, seeker, writer, fun-lover. I live by the sea in southwest France beside my daughter Leslie. Writing fiction has become joy and teacher. It is diving into one's heart to find stories, characters, ideas. That mysterious within holds wonders worth the dig. Like Walt Whitman said: "I am large. I contain multitudes."

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