Advice From the Water

I want to be more like the ocean.
It never overthinks, just accepts.
With each curve of water,
endless possibilities of motion.

Its tiny ripples allow toddlers at sandbar to run
into the shallow end, collect seashells.
Mommy! Look what I found!
Then, they transcend.

When a giant sea swell thunders near,
surfers’ bellies connect to board’s wax.
They lick salt off lips,
Sweep wet hair blocking faces, reveal a sneer.
Like ballerinas in an intimate dance,
the ocean lifts up the strangers, fusing into one,
deep in a trance.

The horizon releases a breath, pushing them away,
with a guiding light of sun’s glowing ray.

I want to be more like the ocean.
It never overthinks.