Strange to be by sea on sand
Sunned, yet chilled by wind while tanned,
Watching son and daughter manned by others.
Surf school seemed the slackest sort,
Though by these slackers children taught
To stride the breakers’ cold onslaught and triumph.
Moored up, but still the rise and fall,
Anchor deep, yet still that pull
Elsewhere, a pulsing constant call, my other.
Cells divide, hearts contract, blood rushes through.
Time passes, thoughts turn, waves renew.
Surfing stops, I switch bifocal view.