Devoted

I stand devoted to the sea, though she may never know the love, there’s beauty in her fervency that draws from deep to rise above.

I do what little a poet can to cast a line into the swell; with hopes for hooks, I haul with hands to snag a lip or claw or shell.

I edge the tide in silent awe, brace cold beside unwavering form, bleed out and wash into the shore, evaporate to join the storm.