August Water

-Is-

Neptune’s Tailor

’Tis the time when sister sun slips down’ard…

Not so much for the day but…for the season

When inlet waters are long since warmed.

For, this moment is the rhyme and the reason

For a swim and a splash (or a plash) ’n’ all that:

‘Midst cool-ish water not too warm not too cold.

Stroke, by ‘long soft sand strand ’n’ lush weed and

Down into the drink go: both the timid and the bold

To dive ’n’ frolic or saunter or swim-with-great-zest

‘Mong crest or wavelet or long and slender ripple

Silent or crashing or sizzling along sand; ripping

Retreating and beating, dampened, endless, stipple

Into coasts lined with siliceous grain, shell and kelp

‘Mongst too, the mighty rock and rubble and riprap

‘Round water-drawn lines through dense gravel ’n’ stones

Sea-retreat: amidst calfs and thighs and sea-damp lap.

Back into the deep; again among its own vast wet self.

Then comes the silent trill of the thrill, the feel: the root

Of the sense that suddenly-you’re being: slowly, expertly

Clad with the finest and fanciest, best-fitting bespoke suit

Of slippery clothes; all waist-cinched; draped shoulder’d

’N’ fashioned with long wet pleat-creases; wide, watery lapels

Skintight this is, what Neptune’s tailor carefully fashions

And ’tis the best thing to kiss and caress your skin and tell.

How good it feels to be wet and close and intimate dressed

In perfect proportion caressed; in thing, Natural-not-bought

In a moist-sea-outfit close clothed and all decked-out

You’ve ‘slipped into something comfortable’: wrought

Just for you. By…the Sea.

The Sea always…fits.

Posted 2 minutes ago by DILULIUS, King of Troy