From the salt harbor to the open sea
his eyes affix on the long hem of the horizon
that separates blue from blue
and cloud from foam.
Closer in he sees white pleasure sails
and low green islands,
green with the pitch of pine,
their scent over the water.
He has seen this over and over
but it holds no sameness for him,
these tides of such relentless strength.
He knows each surge
brings something new and alive,
just like it did at the beginning.