It was a fine white mist
that hovered around her
as the waves kept crashing down
one after the other in a steady
rhythmic crescendo almost
orchestral in its nature
She was sitting on a mound of
black rock planted in sand,
facing the Pacific Ocean,
conducting her symphony and
reveling in the scope of
its complexity and grandeur
Wind and fowl and vegetation
swirled, swooped and swayed
to her grand majesty.
Almost a primal umbilical…
or better yet, like she was perched
atop the very aorta of
all around her
She had never really believed in a
greater power, but now found it
hard to refute that there was a
higher order of which everything is
an integral part
(Source: ralphalfonso.blogspot.com)
• Poetry • Ralph Alfonso • link •