The power of the ocean
in what does it lie?
In the endless, timeless roar of the surf?
In the immense vistas – the view to the end of the world?
In the glowing spray as it diffuses
the light of the rising sun?
In the power and mystery of its
it brings one to scale
it breathes into one serenity
it insists that one pause…
was the world filled with
such wild landscapes?
With these tests and salves for the
Before we spent what we did not own?
Were the monarchs of the southeastern forest
as the ocean?
The longleaf pines—
In their endless and timeless ranks
With their immense vistas—
views of waving grasses
as far as the eye could see?
In the power and mystery of their length and breadth?
Would one have found scale? Serenity?
Would one have been impelled to pause?
Do we mourn for what we have not known
but by glimpses
through another lens?