The Wave Maker

The Wave Maker

by Bill High

Some arrive as the sky first etches pink and blue
Others make it a lunchtime break
And some hustle here before going home

Still others make it a lifestyle
Waiting tables, scrounging tips at night
To surf the day away

Like frogmen they sit bobbing in the water
Straddled astride fiberglass
They wait
Until the unseen force
Pushes, heaves and thrusts… the wave

Sometimes they can see it curling in the distance
But before it reaches them the hope fades
Into froth or calm
There are times when they just sense it
The power that rises,
Into crests of glorious spray

In that moment, when they paddle like mad
And push bent arms to standing
To precarious balance,
And they ride, glide
They twist and turn, sometimes into the mist
Sometimes under the turn

As legs burn and abs hold on, they smile
The end is sometimes the same glory
Upended into a spectacular back splash
But mostly, it’s a simple glide to a peaceful end

And they return to frogmen bobbing
Waiting on the mystery of the wave
It makes me wonder
Does the surfer waiting on the wave
Wonder on the mystery of the Wave Maker?

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Published March 29, 2016

Topics: A Life of Faith

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