The tide is turning.
Rolling inward this time.
In to the swirl and business, the tumult, the crowd, the chatter.
It needs to be borne, there's no force to conquer the wave.
The edge of the rip tide that's most comfortable to paddle in is swept away.
Instead, a boisterous party surrounds, where friends abound,
Who dazzle and frazzle and exhaust with their love.
It's a weird place to be at for a few hours.
But then the crouch of all the ocean behind the haunch of waves calls
It's time to go, RIGHT NOW, to go hunker on your sand bar
Safe and alone until the next tide hits.
Like breathing, but the out fits better, a sigh not a suck.
Tumble in, breathe out.
Putting words down...Tiff out.