At Del Mar Beach, waves
rush, colliding, hurry-hurry,riding on high tide. They
nibble and chew at clay
banks below multi-million
ducat mansions. Black-suited
surfers look like flies on foam.
Joggers and cyclists pad and pedal
perpendicular to the sand.
I sit and listen to the ocean's
constant secret speech, never
able to translate it, but
mesmerized, almost absorbed,
by it. An ocean is
the grandest siren of them all.
