Respectable waves, close together and quick cresting. They break down with so little ceremony
a person would have to raise his voice
to be heard.
A non-issue since nobody else
is around this morning.
except for Stewart, my dog
(and he's about as indifferent to my poetic musings
as my human friends).
I wonder how a surfer
might describe these waves,
but what little I remember
of 60's surf jargon would be laughably inadequate.
If true to the rules of any technical language,
a surfer's words would be short, concise
and unfamiliar to outsiders,
the treasured slang of a specialized group.
But for all I know, he might take a quick look,
decide the conditions were "crappy"
and drive off to whatever it is surfers do
when they're not surfing.
Sitting against a driftwood log,
I get a today's paper out of my backpack:
3 to 4 foot southerly seas will accompany
today's west-northwesterly 5 to 7 foot swells
with an 11- to 13-second period.
That's good, too, I suppose.
But not so nice as being here.