“Sea Talk,” Friend, Aug. 1998, 32
Sea Talk
Ah, what does it do but tickle my toes,
That curling tide of the sea?
And what does it do but pickle my nose,
That salty spray flying free?
And what does it sigh as it comes and it goes,
That sea-voice heard only by me?
A secret?
A secret!
Who knows it?
Who knows it?
Why, the mighty, mysterious sea,
Who whispered it,
Restless,
In deep, tiptoe darkness,
Through the doors of my giant sand castle
To me!