Here I sit
Now clearly see
The fate of my efforts.
The ocean beats against this rock
Like swells and exhalations
Of a watery Beast
Furious that I am still
On the cliff
Legs dangling
Tauntingly…
Or so it thinks.
Always the wind blows
Against me
From the left-then the right
In my face it forces salty tears
I refuse to give freely.
From behind it gives
An unfriendly shove.
Only at low tide
In the calm of sunset
I can lift the large quartz
From my stack of paper.
My finger traces invisible words
While the water knowingly waits
For the falling one
To land softly on its surface,
Eager to toss it to and fro
Until it obediently sinks
Wordless and forgotten.
Another message
Out of the bottle
Ciera S. Louise c. June 23, 2006