Jefferson Rowland

So gently down the lee side,
the softness of your swell calling me to swim with you,
breaks your kiss,
disappearing before I can taste it.

Bright avenues under southern sun,
your beauty dances, salty and sweet,
impossibly soft today, tempestuous and hard tomorrow.

But I can count on you, sweet ripple, rocking what you touch,
to remind me it will be different, again,
and to rest, and dream, and save my love,
for no man has written of you,
yet lived to call you his.