On Surfing Poem by Angie M..

I'm not a surfer, but if I was...
I'd explain it in this cliche

You two being the wavemakers
(at times the bathymetry a little off
and I'd be caught inside)
but many times... I'd reach the crest.

The dawn patrol was always my favorite.

Sometimes I would be in aggro mode, other times just hanging loose...belly-boarding and appreciating the view.
Once in awhile, there would be a bailing...usually, on a rogue wave.

Though I always knew, I understand more now, the amount love in the process. The mental endurance. The giving on all sides.

With that, I also experience the clarity. I am on my own wave and that's a lonely place to be...the mysto spot. Difficult when waves thought genuine in my view, dissipate. I am aware they are genuine in another's. But here today, I am free in my emotions...worthy of trust.

I choose to ride the wave you both are on now.

Following the peaks and calm.

(In Lieu of Monday)