She feels so familiar. Yet it has been months and months since I saw her in these robes.
And her cries…
known to me, yet so new.
Wind pushing waves.
Water on sand.
The rhythm of the feet
Like a story I know in my body.
Left then right.
Right then left.
Not the hip roll and sway of the swim.
Firm ice crunching crisp under boots.
Tasting the freeze on my lips.
Air not water.
I wonder how long she can hold my interest.
These visits when I come clothed.
Watch the winded waves play.