To the Sea

I have returned to take in the sea,

to listen, to have a look.

Tide just beginning to turn,

I am only steps away from the dunes.

And, yes, the morning air smells of the sea.

I have sailed these waters. I turn my head

a few degrees south. I feel the breeze

across both ears,

and so, right on the nose.

A bus arrives. Long-distance travelers, they

file along the sandy path between sea oats

and scattered patches of beach amaranth.

A wintry geography escaped,

they have landed here,

all ooo’s and aaa’s, these good folks

from Cedar Rapids and Waterloo.

They shade their eyes from the low sun.

Such an expanse of water, they have not seen.

I want them to hold their arms

out wide as if to embrace water and sky.

I want them to close their eyes

and to inhale deep, deep—

then, something

more to be carried home—

ever in them, this sea.