Sea, she and I.

The sea is calling me    
flooding out of a bay,  
chasing down narrow, winding lanes,    
pouring into our city,    
slopping into my hall    
until my feet are fully submerged.    
    
Salt spray's brought in on a surfer's wind,    
fish flop in the shallow pools,    
whipping as I follow her beckoning,    
remove layers    
until I'm all bare feet, shoulders, hands back,    
wearing only my maiden skin -    
   
Men fall from pubs to smoke, char their lungs and gawp,    
boys on bikes, (stop) feet down,  
engine off.  
On the unbeaten path I see her,    

she gentles herself at my arrival,    
flicks away the wind, lays out her frame    

and I enter her  
     beneath this hot Sun.