After the Storm

Storm and wind have passed,
Ocean still a roiling sea,
Spirit in the waves.

In the midst of storms,
I can not hear inner voice,
Guiding me to shore.

So I float and trust,
All will pass and soon one day,
I will hear again.

On this Sunday morn,
Sun peeks bright through leaden clouds,              
Slowly ocean calms.

On the shore I see,
Lovely mother tall in skirt
With her tiny child.

Back and forth they dance,
To the edge of waves’ approach,
Then back to the sand.

Ah, the skirt is gone!
Now they venture past the edge,
Water up their legs.

Grandma is now there,
Crouching over baby boy,
Showing him the waves.

It is mother though,
Holding hands with girl child now,
Braving waves’ first cold.

So much happens here,
Families come and live their lives,
Stories I don’t know.

Up above I sit,
In my room close to the sea,
Loving change below.

Seagulls and their pals,
Squadrons of brown pelicans,
Catch my eye in flight.

Little did I know,
Pelicans are often white,
But just here, they’re brown.

Black or white or brown,
Colors of our lives, our clothes,
All our lights do shine.

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