When ocean mama wave sends
her little droplets out to play,
she warns them to stay away
from boats, trawlers, cruisers.
You may visit the sailing ships,
the ones that follow the winds
as we do, the ones that calmly go
in time with us, our currents,
our moon pulls.
They are safe.
Those others with their motors—
they will churn you,
turn you to foam,
make you white with fear,
toss you into the air,
the air which can evaporate you.
No smelling salts can save you then.
Listen to your mama,
you wet behind the ears droplets.
I don’t want to lose you.
Be home for supper.
We’re having hydrogen oxygen casserole
© by Marilyn Zelke-Windau.
Used with the author’s permission.