Observers of the Storm

In this place, storms create magic;
Wild, raw, and perfect.
Here, the rains are familiar and awaited.
They pour heavily into the ocean and
Create the illusion of overflow.
The grey day is counterintuitively enticing;
Promises of simultaneous sensory engagement
Draw warm, dry observers to the beach.
The smell of wet cedar bows hangs in the misty air.
Raindrops drip off the end of noses
And taste remarkably pure and sweet.
The heavy sea-spray is made saltier by sweat;
A marvellous elixir.
It is caught between the lips of kissing lovers,
Inevitably soaked through to the core.
Whistling nighttime winds tell stories
And are an invitation to the fireside.
The crashing waves shush, hypnotize,
Lulling listeners into quietude,
And then, nothing else matters.

TofinoBC

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