churning far side

With frothy peaks mounting atop the deeps black he ducked under wavelengths of ceaseless attack. When surfaced once more on the churning far side a perfect one coming ws all that he spied and turned for his takeoff and nailed it anon and without much effort was surfing and gone. When its forces were spent his exit arrived and his was a purest joy to be alive and he turned once more and once more paddled out while sounding his loudest and sharpest war-shout. A maiden was nearby and she turned to look as he from his forelock the briny drink shook but with a few stokes of his lean mighty limbs pulled past her and toward that one sweet spot did swim. Through haze sun was setting and sending up steam it watched as he kept getting up on his beam it watched as he sped through the oceans atop the great mighty breakers that never did stop. When his forces left him he aimed for the cove and thanked all the gods who looked down from above and thanked all the gods living under the sea in a short swift sincere surf ceremony. With aplomb he wormed slipped and dodged all the rocks and ignored the nay-saying beer-drinking jocks who piled on the shore-front to stand there and leer whenever a surfer-type came them too near. His heart though was pure and he kept his mouth shut and kept right on walking to his meager hut where he took a shower too brief and too cold then vowed he'd still love the sea when he was old.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥