The Tao of Ocean Interlude: Plum Island Depths

The Tao of Word 6

Low tide: the beach becomes a desert.
The sun is January low
inside the noontime sky and winds
blow constant with their chilling knowledge.

Incessant energetic swells
creating chaos in a surf
the wind is turning back in quantum
curling spray before the crash:

I feel the blood inside my heart.
I sense the microscopic surge.
I’m overcome by waves of something
I’ll call light for lack of footing.

Wind explodes my every cell
apart from one another. All
that soon remains is consciousness
and rising in the east, this moon.

~Feugill Poirier 2008