My Name

The south seas called my name,
birds and fish, the people too.
they called my name and I came.

For days I stayed remembering
not much more than that.
It was good because

The seagulls cry, but their noises are washing away like the breakers. What I really notice is the soft green wood planks that line the pier. There are some cement posts too, but even these seem soft. Everything seems soft and green. The water and the wood, the grass and the rocks. Not hard green, or bright, but a various shade of green. The water is the darkest green. The wood on the pier is also green, but this is mixed with dark browns. A slight fishy tang tickles my sense of smell. Just like the light breeze does to my hair. The morning air is slighty chilly but not enough to make me stop. A few boats are tied up. They rock gently in the rising tide. In the distance a lone seagull dives into the water. I can't see if it caught a fish. Even with all of these silent noises romping about, I feel relaxed.