Feb. 28, 1998

Soft, alive and wandering
The sound that hit the shore
Moves her world around in it
And beats a quiet roar

Worlds of bathing light she sees
Vibrating through the haze
The pressure and the feel of it
A comfort to be praised

Everywhere the shimmering sound
That is all she knows of life
Held within her mother’s womb
So far and free from strife

Softly as a whisper will
It land upon her eyes
Her mind feeds on sensations
As endless as the sky

James H. Webb