Auckland Poetry

Blue
Ocean

When I awoke it was Sunday morning and the seashore

had disappeared, lie in the grass by a stream that has its

nascent where winter shawls cover the blue mountain.

A white owl, ogled me as tiny snakes slithered across my

belly, dived into the streams coolness, which hurt since it

was only two feet deep.

Bleeding from a head wound, but having got rid of

the serpents, I hung my clothes to dry on an oak’s

inviting branch.

Sat on a boulder as morning sun warmed my nudeness,

when the maid who milks morning dew walked by,

she paused and asked: ” Are you a satyr?’

 “No dear, I’m a sailor rejected by the sea”. She gave me

roses’ dew to drink, intoxicated I embraced her ephemeral

body and was free of the ocean’s pull.