WITHOUT END

The waves whisper a name

on ripples of froth

rising over wet sand, reaching for a line,

receding without despair into advancing waters,

breaking into liquid diamonds

swirling richly in an ocean soup,

beaming under a yellow sun hanging

in a blue sky

as winds waft wave tops sideways

like smoke rising from campfires

and then settles,

repeating without end.

 

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