Cape North. Ocean surface
Dark as a drowner's despair
Hurling itself against itself
Upon; within and beyond itself.

You can smell the North Pole
On the wind's perpetual threat
Of storms so strong they carry
Ice in their harsh beings.

So unlike Warrnambool; emerald
Waves high-fiveing Australian
Rock over its own undeniable
Beauty. Silver edged green gems

Flowing as from a giant child
Emperor's slain piñata.
Scent of warm ocean rendering
Its perfection even to closed eyes,  

And I stand with one foot on each
Vertical edge of the world.
Thanking. Breathing. Watching.  
Praying to -and for- everything.

You are here with me. Like
Yellow on wasp; feather on bird;
The one thing added making
All else as graceful as itself.