these fish
that i can
almost grab
in the green
swirl of ocean,
they look cold
in the cold water.
moving in two's
and three's, so
near me,
and my legs
and feet are too
white against
the emerald
depth. i shift
and shiver
in the sand
and let
each new wave
rise and crest
over me.
i feel the salt
in my eyes, taste
the brine in my
mouth. i don't
worry so much about
the fish, and
they in turn don't
pay me much mind
either.
it's too early
in the season
to be out
in the ocean, it's
hardly may.