IF HALF MY DAY


If half my day
were in words
to reveal the day dream
when my spirit leaps
to reveal the grains of sand
near the deep sea
reaching my hands
to touch the surf board
as I'm concealed
from a poet's laughter
as if I was playing riffs
on the jazz floor
as the winds batter us
far from the shore
does it matter
how music behaves
in the fjords by high cliffs
under the deep ocean
in Iceland or Norway
or when the moving critic
raves twice in a day's wonder
at the waves over his raft
motions to ride into drafty harbor
knowing it's nature's feeling
of pride as the salt spray
now shadows
a tourist ship with a grey cat
until we reach the Bay.