How she calls

She thirsts for me
and she calls,

whispers my name –
      come dance,

sometimes loud –
      come dive,

sometimes soft –
      come breathe.

Lapping with little slappings
to suggest, persuade,

she draws the undertow
so I feel the overthrow

arriving and departing
leaving and returning,

spreading her susurration
far away and close by

turn by turn
tide by tide

surge and suck,
pull in, come swim,

      dance in me,
so calls mother sea.