The sun beamed down through the lonesome pine,
Something in the air was deep and sublime,
Singing from the waves as old as time.
It was a sweet song of old,
About love, beauty, and things untold,
Sometimes stern but never a scold.
As that old bay churned and ached,
I could feel some deep truth each time it quaked,
The flowing of water made the world shake.
As the day turned to night,
And the fruit bats took flight,
I could still see those waves dancing in the moonlight.
They spoke of things unseen,
Hopes, dreams, and everything in between,
Churning forever in natures, living dream.