she stood
body at rest
loose of hips and arms
knees flexed slighlty
carrying her weight
with little regard

eyes toward the horizon
or at least the break of king tide waves
they call it reading the ocean

hair windswept
skin browned beyond bronze
by countless days spent
on the water,
under the argent sun

eyes a deep brown
like the skin of an acorn
and lips pursed,
as if just about to speak
or laugh at the joke
heard whispered,
on the zephyr wind

without age
this matriarch,  
of  sand and tide
she stands in the glory
of this days rising sun

as though she awaits to bless
a new world begun...