Have you ever seen the ocean sparkle,
beckoning to the midday sun,
inviting it to descend early into its watery cool skin?

And have you ever heard it grumble, or seen it rise up in anger,
and feel it SLAP you, SMACK you, the scapegoat for its problems?

Have you ever had it BEAT you down into its depths, surround you,
like your own little island, and has it ever whispered soothing things
to you in the silence of its own making?
Does it ever slip inside you – your mouth, maybe, or your eyes,
trying to infect you and make you never want to leave?

And have you ever felt it cradle you gently on its surface;
has it let you slice through it with (non) graceful abandon
with a laugh, a shriek, a scream of childish delight?
Has it ever tried to save you from its fury,
realizing, maybe, it's not your fault,
and pushed you towards the sand,
birthing you on the shore like a mother to her child?
Has it ever tickled your toes with gleeful urgency,
and begged you to come again tomorrow?

That is my ocean,
my summertime friend,
wild and free and unrestrained;
yet gentle and cleansing,
my summertime fun.