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It's not the waves you catch,

How hard or how strong.

It's the wind in your hair,

The ocean's song.


Knowing you can't,

Almost certain you can.

Endless blue,

With a bare sight of land.


Getting to know the oceans,

Dolphins and fish your friends.

Too many mistakes,

That you need now not mend.


The loss of all worries,

The bad, the worst.

Nothing is practiced,

Nothing rehearsed.


The surfer's only knowledge,

Of what's going on,

Is the coming of the waves,

In the wake of the dawn.


©2004Sasha Walker/Mills

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