Sonnet on the beach

Like the sighing of the ocean waves upon the sand

Is Your voice that calls me to a place of rest.

The tidal ebb and flow marks wetness on the strand;

Your paw prints fill with water as I strain to keep abreast.

It’s the purring of a Lion, it’s the soughing of the sea

That pulls me out of fretting to a place you call delight.

When I feel the anxious chatter and the world things beckon me,

Turn low the blaring volume and pull down the shades for night.

Your voice is indistinct, and when I reach, You seem to fade--

Sound-bytes, trailers, blogs and twitters clamour for my brain:

Or apathetic “chill; don’t sweat it” threatens to pervade--

So doff the sweater called “whatever”--seek a lost refrain:

I’ll know You when I see You and hear Your voice anew;

You’re not tame, You’re wild and free--You’ll do what You will do.