Waiting for the wave

At the mercy of the Sea

Not a word I hear them grumble.

 

Minutes go by

Now close to the hour;

At last, a good one...

Alas... it's lost in a tumble.

 

Seagulls stroll the air

With their customary grin;

“Every man wants to fly”

They muse...

“Wonder why these wingless

Would-be birds

Keep holding on to what they lose!”

 

Suddenly the waves start to grow,

They roll and roll,

Roll out of control...

Not for the bipeds though,

On their pointed planks

As they fly on the waves like a soul.

 

Waiting for a bite

At the mercy of the Sea

I hear their stomachs grumble.

 

Their wings of no use

They cannot but choose

To wait for the end of the tumble.

 

Wait!

Awake!

Don't be late!

The waiting will make you humble.

​

Z