When I close my eyes
I still see
the ocean.
In vivid detail
I see the waves’ crests,
the surfers lining up,
and the birds flying.
I observe the webs of white foam
embellishing the water
as it crashes
against the rocks,
below the cliff on which I sat
and watched
the sinking orange sun.
I can sense the mist,
and feel the breeze
my senses tuned;
it’s still the same air;
Pacific winds
through my window.

What is the ocean’s experience of time?


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Ocean (Poem)

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