The rhythm of my life emerged from the Baltic Sea
where waves washed over my squealing body
and my toddler feet slogged through sand
studded with honeyed amber
and my plump baby arms
reached out to seagulls,
their wings dipping in and out of the blue-green water.

Today I swim like a frog, head above the surface, paddling,
my eyes scanning the sea, flashing like silver.
But the rhythm of the ocean lives within me
as cycles of sun and moon live within me.
Within, I glide on swells to the far horizon, out of sight,
and then float back with the sea-foam breaking at the shore.

The ocean rises and falls,
pregnant with new possibilities,
and I am soothed
by the eternal recurrence of tides.