The ways the ocean sounds

It feels different the first time you hear it when you just arrive...the syncopation of the ocean, it is more of a jazz tune as it ebbs and it flows...

It acclimates you...it immerses you in the wind, the scent of the sea, the sand...the ocean is unchanged.  It is exactly, almost, as to when it was first formed.  What you see now is what has been seen for ages....ageless in its gaze.

It is complicated in colors...that change beneath full sun or darkening storms.  The blues become browns and greens...at night it reflects whatever is lucky enough to stand over it.

The ocean is sinew, muscular and molding...it cares not a whit if you join it.

It purrs with low tide and exults at high.  It lets the moon set its mood.

It strokes the sand like a lover, pulling on it, streaming against it, sliding down past the slight incline the way you clutch clothing and gently remove it.

It quarrels against you, nudging you.  It gathers at your knees and moves past you.

I hear such sounds as I remember the ocean...I remember it as complicated patterns and beautiful landscapes...picturesque mornings and indescribable evenings.  

I remember no such equal.  I remember nothing even close.

I remember an ocean and I immediately think of you.