The Little Wave That Could
by Odin Roark

So small
amid my big brothers,
surfing atop their shoulders,
cresting death with infant life.

So many miles
riding the shoulders of whitecaps,
their splash my recreation,
like the hydrant joys
that cool young spirits on land
while chameleon waters bide their time.

Shamans of the deep
have tutored my future,
preparing me for the day
when I will be lifted into free fall
descending and roiling into big brotherdom
for others like I once was,
floating with the spray,
awaiting their turn
to tease the shoreline,
but always returning to the voyage.

I too can return .
So many ways back to the ocean,
through the reflux of the ebbs,
the rise and fall of tides,
evaporation to the clouds
for the respite needed before…

I return to my purpose for existing.
I can still hear Davey telling me over and over;
“You’re the molecule of life’s continuing story
with no end in sight, save the long term effect
of global warming."

Sad to think that could happen…
the loss of so many minuscule friends populating the deep,
waiting their turn to be the little wave that could.