I look at the calendar by my desk - the ocean, the dock, the dog
And suddenly am transported away - to there and then...
Walking, I can feel the hot, warped boards under my feet
Sanded away by years of pounding surf, and feet as bare as mine.
Standing, the heat of the sun pours down my back and shoulders
While tidal surge wind tosses my hair like a dragon kite.
I smell a hundred times a hundred years of sea wrack and salt, fish and crab,
And hear the raucous music of gulls cart-wheeling through the sky.
But the phone rings again and draws me back through time and space,
To stand outside the dream again-breathe deep-and sigh...