Body Surfing
Mother said the corn flakes will cause cramps
so you wait till your breakfast is digested
before you go in the water. Next, find
your yellow satin suit, still damp
on the clothesline in the morning fog.
Flip flops grate on the sandy sidewalk
and the sun breaks through in sudden
bursts, layering warm patches on
the beach. Watch out for broken bottles
left by drinkers from far away places.
By this time, the day is fully awake
and you feel the breeze picking up
from out near Catalina somewhere.
Even the gulls are ready to ride
the air like gleeful champions.
You like the contact between your feet
and the crunchy white sand,
the free taste of salty mist in your mouth
the gray green cold of building monsters,
rolling in, like armies you must conquer.
Out past the foam, you spot the rise
and fall of high sets growing
and speeding toward you. You look around,
knowing you are alone in the water
only you must face the demons.
So you dive beneath the roiling tide.
You are caught in battle, the ocean’s power
and agitation surround you, turbulent and thundering
like a tornado. You yield and fight and smile
at the same time, your heart dancing.
You finally catch your breath, and emerge
onto the smooth surface out past the breakers.
Floating on your back, you watch the sky
through its ghostly haze, and wait. Feel the throb
of sea life beneath your limbs.
Suddenly, you spot a rise, merely a ripple
far out near the horizon. Swim hard toward
the swell, feel the rip current want to carry you
into deep water. The wave rises and crests. You
swim over its top and look down.
Ten feet loom between you and the outgoing
undertow. Your body flies along the rim. You
tuck your head, the sea tearing, pulling, pushing.
Arms held tight against your body, you glide
like a torpedo onto the long empty beach.
Mother at work, no lifeguards on this
Spring day. You own the world in
ten-year-old wonder. After a breathless
rest, you run into the foamy water again.
Ebb and Flow
Tsunamis rush through the world’s
oceans from deep shaking beneath
the earth. Sneaker waves shock you
when you’re searching the tidepools
for sea stars and sea anemones. These
waves wash across the beach and
knock you down.
You have day after regular day of ebb
and flow, then, Boom! Something comes
along to jolt you out of your oblivion.
Maybe it’s something fun to laugh about,
but, Beware! or the rushing water can
overtake you, dashing you against the rocks.
Waves recede, you shake yourself
off and drag your salty limbs up onto
dry sand into sunshine so welcome
you feel like a queen or a king on the
day of your coronation. You crawl to
your towel like a hermit crab having
found a new, better fitting shell.
Barbara Eckroad grew up on the Ocean Front in Balboa, California. She has master's degree in English with a concentration in creative writing. She is a former elementary school teacher and volunteers as a teacher, small group facilitator, library bookstore clerk and literacy tutor. Eckroad hosts a writing group every Friday afternoon in her backyard under an avocado tree. You can find her poems in Free State Review, The Bohemian, The Write Stuff, Bard and Prose and in the poetry anthology Above the Fold.
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