But I always think that, landlocked, and precisely in the middle of my country.
I always think that, and not because of beloved wind brushing through
The prairie grasses, not because the tame lakes make their six inch waves.
I thought I heard the ocean once when I was a little girl. But what I heard
Was dangerous, nothing like the beautiful ocean. Then I heard sea birds
And they whispered the ocean to me, which was kind, but not really true.
I thought I heard the ocean every day, so I married it, lifted conch shells
To my ears, let the birch and linden, the maple and oak be my ocean,
Let the wind be my ocean in my trees, let the ocean be my life.
Let my life be all about the ocean and that was a good way to live,
The salt in the air, the sand under my feet, the only horizon lines
My eyes could see, with the occasional boat breaking the line.