As I struggle against the pounding waves against my
board I fear nothing.

The wave's crash over me and I bobble up and down,
but I stay aloft.

I paddle for what feels like miles out to the
blue,black and green ocean to find my spot beyond the
whitewash.

So calm, so quiet as I see the next session of waves
rippling towards me as they are reflected by the hot
sun.

I feel safe when they pass under me and crash towards
the seashore.

Then one pops up just right, 'so stoked' and I paddle
for my life.

1...2...3 strong paddles to feel myself edgeing over
the curling wave.

To my feet I get in a second my balace strong my body
a pillar.

I glide my way towards where the waves crash into
white horses.

The whitewash was around my feet giving me that ringing
beat in my ear.

I bail off my board into the galloping white horses,
for a thrill to be in that washing machine feeling.

To only a quick turn around and back out to sea.

Against that strong north easterly which gustered
from behond the sea.

So with little strength I have left I start to paddle
over or under the crashing white horses.

With thoughts in my mind of that previous wave, still
ringing in my ear.

To a new day a new mission to conqure that new wave.

Nor to big bor small, but just enough for me to feel
oh so high.

By Richard Chatfield

 
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