Roller Coastal

Dull marine blues, wrestle grass-stain greens
these tumultuous, never-ending rolling horizons
rear up, to strike us down, fade
then slither beneath our keel and buck us skyward
on this perpetual ocean rodeo.

They come again, and again and again
but this time with teeth bared
lean watery shark’s fangs, drip
from the face of each ominous crashing wave,

there’ll be no let off this time
so we founder and fold.

© Graham Sherwood 09/2016