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Sea Carneys
Sea carnivals call to me, carnivals
carried by the wandering carney waves
to land and back
around the globe
trading bits of driftwood
seashells and jellyfish
with each other
glittering sunlight hiding surprises
crashing and splashing
driven by the moon and wind
tossing themselves at the world
with foamy glee
breaking up on the shore
tickling the toes of little children
lapping at the sides of pirate ships
always singing the songs of the waves.
They ignore the words of
fearful doldrums
warning words from those
holding tight to every drop
jealously guarding
every grain of salt and sand
warning the waves to come back
warning them to stay away from shores
where they’ll be broken to bits
and have to crawl back into the sea
in pieces becoming
the bagladies and hobos of the deep
scrounging for their lost bits
to recreate themselves.
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Stay here in the doldrums, they say,
where you’re safe
imprisoned in safety
so that you may live
to fear again.
But a wave, having crashed against a distant shore
doesn’t mind
recreating itself.
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The Orchard
