The Mother--the Ocean

She leads me other than

through worm hole directness,

over grey granule

after greyish granule—

those briny specs swept molded

onto the ocean shore

mounded and matrixed

by moon draw

careened on backs

and underbellies

 of churning water walls

crashing and coursing—

pulled and fading

then beckoned back

to her sweet swell --

  beginnings

  broad flat and

  motherly full.

Kat 15 March 2015