Passing sea

devious the wind as it tickles
the gleam off cottonwood leaves

a hypnotist at its best,
with its green crystal flickers,
to pluck one's attention as
a feather from reality's old hen

whisk away that feather flight
into the realm of clouds and sky
and dark depths of a passing sea
that once slumbered on the land below

when feathers were scales of mighty fish
that ate and fed with serpentine gods

and rest was only found in some stomach
or at the floor of the passing sea

the floor where shells buried themselves
in the rest that flowed from emptied stomachs

those the tides of hollow cores
to ebb the lives poured into the sea
and flow the earth and stone below thee

for it was blood and gnashing teeth
tearing flesh and grinding bone
of lengthy battles for survival
that built the ground the very tree
that mesmerized thee suckles from

yet the wind still tickles the waves
be they glistening waters or bowing blades
over the dark depths of the passing sea