Soft underbelly,
mind lapping on waves,
the circular, rolling
buckets and graves.
Upwards, rising;
terrible thieves
duck and agape
in the whistling leaves.
Popping beneath
a blanketed sheen,
catching the sun;
a shimmering glean.
Ruck, duck and surge
to sunset: the purge.
Riptides embroiling;
I must resist the urge.
#365DaysOfPoetry
