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Waters at Play


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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