The spray of water against my skin,
the clarity the frigid water brings to
The heaves and throes of many currents
tugging at my feet.
The wind chills my soaking
The acrid salt
coating the inside of my mouth,
as well as my tongue.
With an accidental gulp of water,
as a swell hits me unexpectedly.
I also notice the undesirable taste of seaweed,
covering the floor beneath my toes
The odor of salt mixing with the seaweed,
burns my nostrils,
as they are slowly cleansed of all smell from the mainland.
My cold nose tingles as another strange aroma reaches it,
one of delicious food,
carrying along with the wind that I feel upon my face,
and the saltiness of the water.
There are the distant
Cries reaching my ears
of the gulls, as they charge toward the writhing sea.
there are the waves.
The crashes from the shore sound like a gong
in my ears.
The merciless rolling of the sea
pairs with the saltiness and the wind and the seaweed,
to create something I’d never quite experienced
For two hundred seventy degrees around,
all I see are mounds of blue rising and falling into the sea,
occasionally capping with white at their peaks.
Towards the land,
which is very far away,
I see a miniscule strip of yellow,
followed by a foreboding forest of brown and green,
topped off with towering mountains,
laying everything in shadow.
And then I see it.
The wave, towering many feet above
foaming white everywhere around me,
about to break,
crushing my spirit and being in one fell swoop…
And suddenly, I am back in the Met,
realizing it’s almost closing time.
-based upon The Great Wave by Hokusai