The breath of the breeze on my face ,
a whisper through the trees,
its fingers on the water.
Pale blue sky with soft translucent clouds,
fading sunlight on the leaves.
Blue below and above
the thin blue line where water meets sky
for an arm wrestling match,
the unending versus the infinite,
while the breeze laughs, knowing it can easily
tip either’s arm.
Even the sun will set
and darkness will own the sky and sea for a while,
but the breeze, despite its soft caress, is stronger than them all,
stronger than day or night,
sky or sea,
rising or setting sun.
You can hear it laughing
as it moves, making leaves tremble,
imposing its will on the helpless sky and sea.