what captures our attention

above, the sea gulls move towards nesting
below, a million tiny fish dart
in between, we sit upon a small boat

rocking--a balancing act left
for those who understand
how old paint wears away, revealing

the bare bone practicality--
steeped so close to changing waters
we reward ourselves with the impractical

flood of revelry---salty spray,
and wind, jazz-like, changing directions
before the sun warms the surrounding gray

and after the moon has had a say
which way
the wind whorls heaven

~words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '15

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