Outskirts Press, INC.

I keep walking by the sea; which is nothing new for me; I live on the sea; but there is a new feel; the breeze was always warm, or sharp with winter's cup. Now there is a deep coldness, sweeping into my bones, but I feel no fear. There is no threat of evil chill. This is different; as if once again I was a seal or penguin and the arctic cool was a familiar home, bracing and alive. Once again, I say, it sweeps off the water into my soul with a familiar role. Someone from the ocean is my home.