I’m not sure where this creepy little singsong of a poem came from, but again, I’m opening my creative brain here and saying “Yes” to whatever happens to pop along. I was thinking, here, of a story a friend told of a diver searching for abalone in a kelp forest along California’s coast, and well…
Day 12: Tangled
Under the waves, so cold and dark
Drifting along in the brine,
The little fish nudges the cold, blue skin
All wrapped in the soft, green vine.
Under the waves, so cold and dark
The abalones grow
Nestled amid the strange, strong limbs
As the currents shift to and fro.
Under the waves, so cold and dark
With face turned towards the sun,
But no rays can reach beneath the deep
And the kelp is grasping, and tangled, and creeps
Around the legs to hold and to keep,
Its prize so cruelly won.
* * *
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