Snorkeling . . .

Sitting by water's edge after first full on swim into the ocean's swells, to over my head at times, snorkeling (and sputtering) and gazing through goggles intermittently filling with briny effluence, tiny tiger-striped flat bodied fish, barracuda and one funky fish I believe was a parrot, schools of tiny darting dancing fingerling sized swimmers, several spotted schooling species, and not a single shark nor stingray in sight to cause a fright.

Waves lifting my scarcely buoyant body, then down again, blowing hard to clear the airway and standing tiptoe to empty goggles blurred by leaks around beard hairs, rubbing saltiness out my eyes, then down again to gaze at the wonder of what just a few boulders draw in from the depths.  And whilst enjoying these new experiencings, hoping the waves will wash away sorrows and ills of the world have sullied me lately, that perhaps they'll sink to the ocean floor as I'm elevated with each swell of the surf, floating back to freedom.