You may not see me,
from behind her blue bliss
cascading down her glistening face
gazing at a surface of sheer placidity,
embraced by her salty caress.

You will see me
paddle my arms, dipping lightly
scooping hands on both sides
affectionately.

Rails gleam in the sun
ankles crossed, feet up,
forward I lunge,
slowly,
across her wide belly.

You might see me
catch her at her crest,
and become one with her
as she pours a wave down upon me.

You will not see me, once inside her
as I duck down
low to my board, hand extended,
touching her rounded breast.

Her waves, always unfolding
always inviting,
holding us close to her
like a mother should.

Our Mother,
Our ocean,
loved by so many.
No wonder the sun
gets so jealous.