The sea is tranquil as it washes gently,
Over the sands with a caress whisper,
The clouds play shadow casting shyly,
The sun dawns with an orange hamper.
The shore-crab peep out to dart and hide,
Claws held high like advancing soldier,
Into deep holes with a waterbed inside,
Stalked eyes out like periscopes peer.
The catamarans are pulled up safely tied,
Lanterns warm after the night out at sea,
The fish and shrimp in purse seine netted,
Air alive with smell of the morning tea.
The fisherwomen in gaudy prints bright,
With baskets perched daintily balanced,
Hips sway their walk like pendulum light,
Fresh catch to sell as the market opened.
I walk as the breeze in my hair flurries,
The jetty piles are my hunting ground,
Fresh green mussels hang in berries,
Their patina sheen has me spellbound.
I love the way they open very subtle,
Like lips parted in moments of passion,
Letting seawater wash over the mantle,
I sway with the music of the ocean
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