Not drowning, just waving.

In a dream, or a memory

Floating prone, in the ocean off the coast,

A familiar place, a rhythmic pace not lost.

The water balances my body midway 

Between sinking and surviving. 

To the left I can see the sand dunes rising

In unison with the incoming swell. 

To the right, a line dividing air from water.

Below, I can feel the shifting tide 

 Sensing the sharks, waiting for a meal. 

Above, the blue sky, home for drifting puffs of cloud 

and a stray gull, squawking at nothing.

There’s a call from the shore.

“Are you drowning or waving?”

How thoughtful, how profound.

Neither. Just caught between sea and sky.

It’s the way it’s always been.