The Surfer

Here begins and ends the grave of all things:
ocean waters force me to my sporting.
Surfer, skimmer, flying through new blue tubes
where swirling, magical delight confounds;
where mystery of rolling arms are bound
in waves unending, turning me to home.
So, hungry heart is given each new birth;
each ride is promised rivers past all harm
and though my place is lived here on this shore
my waiting for the next wave loved the more.
Oh! mother, for your ocean, I’m enthralled;
‘Fore earth and air and fire, your water calls.