The water is often still here.
The same ocean, yet she has changed her clothes several times
Since I last saw her.
She was sassier then, chilly and wild with waves worn
Around her shoulders like cotton batting.
Here, she seems deceptively softer, smoother, warmer to the touch.
But do not anger the ocean goddess of the south.
She will roil and spill onto your safety --
A howling spurned mistress
Churning until all her rage is spent.
Her northern self is steely and controlled --
Her voice still so familiar in my ear that she almost tricks me into believing,
"Oh, it's you! You followed me here to keep me company,
still singing the sea song from my earliest remembering."
In the north, she pulls no punches, tells no lies
Offers solace to the island dwellers.
Here, in the south, she is Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde
Lulling me into a haze, until the moon is full and the offshore winds whip her
Into a frenzy.
Once, I thought I knew her allure.
Now, I am not so sure.
