Waters at Play

July 6, 2020











Water teases 

the shore. 

Midnight embraced. 


The fawn’s gentle passage 

Across the divide between 

Sea and space. 


Gently it massages 

The overwrought mind. 

It plays with fancy 

And caresses the 

Worry from out of the day. 


It can rise, water that 

splits the rock. 


On wild, stormy days, 

Untamed it crashes 

And builds for yet 

Another assault. 


Power, magnitude, 

Roiling, unbridled, 

Its music is loud 

And pitched. 


Wave upon wave, 





Majesty tethered 

To the foam. 


Waves capture the sky. 


The iridescent blue of a summer’s day, 

The sprightly appeal of windswept water. 

The unassuming, rare incidence 

Of water at rest, shimmering there 

In the sun. 


Oh, its many variations. 

Its fluid grace to go from 

One thing to another. 


How adaptable it is. 

How beautiful in its many moods. 

How perfect its conformity to the 

Winds and weather 

That brush its tide. 


Yet, still, 

to the deeps 

Quiet resides. 


So much rousing, 

So little calm, 

So much 

restless wandering, 


Yet, playful disregard 

While waters surge 



And lift up the dawn.



John A. Bragstad is the author of two books: Compass Season and Nature's Poetry of Life / both available at Amazon or in local Grand Marais bookstores.



"Waters at Play" is taken from an upcoming work still in progress: Sojourner of the Spirit.


Special thanks to Pixabay for the title image.

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