High Tide

It is out here I like to think;
To sit upon the soft, wooden jetty and ponder,
My heart in the water,
My thoughts with the trees.
And as the sun plays hide and seek behind grey clouds,
I lose myself with the outgoing wind.
The sea eats up the pebble covered shore.
She beats like a spirited drummer upon the coco trunks
And speaks to my soul,
Her music mirth.
The grey clouds now hide my countenance
My existence simple; mere ambiguity.
But now as the wind returns,
I find myself.
And the experience of such selflessness
Slowly but surely engulfs me.