SURF & TREES
BY CHRIS AINSWORTH
Walking towards the surf, sand underfoot, free
Winston is the face, breathing in the sea
Cool mist hangs in the air as the evening sun falls
Dune grass cutting at skin, following the ocean’s calls
Radiating colors paint themselves over canvas sky
Crashing waves create a heartbeat impossible to deny.
Hiding is the grand design of superior mines
Easy to find an impossible to hide behind.
Trees dance in the sky, like a city skyline
Far too elegant to look past the divine
Air crisp as a soft Earth moves under foot
Branches flooding out the sky, perfectly put
Simple complexity of the world that surrounds
Driving the ideas from within the mind’s grounds
Taste of do on the breeze, heavy enough to sit
As worlds awake, and beyond outstretched fingertips. | CA