THAT SEA          

I first beheld the sea when I was twen-

ty two, immediately knelt to drink

to taste, first-hand, if it were really salt

(you never know–the stories could’ve lied)

first chance to dream beyond the blue hori-

zon’s edge, expand a midwest prairie’s view

to something grander: waves unceasing and

a smell unlike Lake Michigan’s, a stink

of fish and iodine, primordial

(the salt was true; let’s see about the tide)

a rocky beach, too cold to swim, but I

returned each day, and on the last I threw

into the surf a silver coin: a plea

for swift return to walk beside that sea.

L.E. Wilson