So nice to paddle calmer waters, the only wake from me.
Turquoise green lagoons and bays from once the swelling sea.
There is no motor humming that shakes me to my bone
just dripping drops behind me as I make my way back home.
The ships are moored with sail to board sheltered from the wind.
Buoys adrift that feel the shifts, but nonetheless stay pinned.
The ospreys watch me closely from bastions near the shore;
they're fishing for their dinner while I fish for something more.
I plunk the paddle right, then I dip the paddle left,
the motions may propel me, though I feel the water's heft.
I don't suppose it fights me, just lets me know it's there.
It heals itself so quickly from the paddle's digging tear.
The beach, my destination, calls me on to feel its shore.
The tides again are shifting going back to sea once more.
I look back at the water, it's as if I never came.
The banks of green lagoons and bays is the place I shall remain.
