I wait for the holiday crowd to clear the beach
before stepping onto the first wave.
Soon I am walking across the Atlantic
thinking about Spain,
checking for whales, waterspouts.
I feel the water holding up my shifting weight.
Tonight I will sleep on its rocking surface.
But for now I try to imagine what
this must look like to the fish below,
the bottoms of my feet appearing, disappearing.
I love having access to specific poems, but your website is a little hard to navigate. Maybe it will be easier for me the next time. Thanks, Paula
Mr. Collins, Your work is so descriptive and imaginative that I am right there walking across the Atlantic with you. Thank you. I never imagined I'd get to. Margaret