POETRY: ‘SURF & JOE’Awakening pre-dawn to a cuppa Joe. Morning coffee is a
ritual. An event. The rich, smooth, invigorating scent of hazelnut
enters through the hem of my nose. I inhale. Add cream.
Create a spiral galaxy in a cup.

Briny breezes blow into the room and mingle with the
coffee’s aroma. The sea beckons in whispers, luring me to the
soft sand. With cup in hand, flip-flops flapping rhythmically,
I meander to the ocean front.

The expanse of water stretches before me, harnessing its majesty.
Waves swell. Peak. Crash with increasing ferocity, gurgling
metronomically as they caress each grain of sand. The perpetual
cadence of the vast sea stirs a restless desire that engulfs me.

A flock of seagulls squawk overhead, squabbling about something.
Distant fishing boats bob and roll with incoming tides, spilling water
on and off board. A pod of seals porpoise in and out of the sun-splashed
waves, barking to welcome the glorious sunrise before them.

As the sun crests over the horizon, streaks of crimson explode.
I rest my cup upon a weathered rock. A warm glow washes over me.
These lush moments of magic nourish my soul as they blossom
into the birth of a new day.

Sheryl Lindsell-Roberts