On Any Given Day
She’s on the only rock still standing,
tide rolling in around her.
She’s at the edge of the land,
the very tip of what’s solid underfoot.
Waves slap on either side
with such ferocity
but she remains so calm, unmoved.
The moon can play its games with ocean
all it wants
but she’s no piece on its explosive board.
The pounding can’t break into her thoughts.
The electric spray could never be
so far from her emotions.
She’s at Tanglewood, engulfed in Haydn.
She’s in her husband’s arms,
Cocoa Beach, honeymoon hotel
She’s counting the teeth in her children’s heads.
She’s strolling a forest trail, deep in the Berkshires.
Eventually, the tide retreats.
It knows when it’s defeated.
There’s not just one rock now.
There’s many glistening gray stones.
But there’s only the one woman.
Remember that, next time the tide rolls in.
John Grey is a US-Based Australian born poet. Recently published in International Poetry Review, Sanskrit and the science fiction anthology, The Kennedy Curse with work upcoming in Freshwater, Paterson Review and Nerve Cowboy.