surfy intent

sore ribs and wrists
humbled by small waist high mush
I sit at my desk again
desk jockey
We are defined by how we spend our time
no?
was almost seven weeks since I immersed
in cold Atlantic waters
on the paddle out I felt slow
sluggish, fat, and old
did I say old?
rubbish
outta shape more like it
confidence waning like
last week’s moon
but all is not lost
what was once illusion of surfy self,
now shattered by fact
becomes a new challenge to find time
challenge to discipline and fortitude
to be fit -not fat
to be flexible, to notice the nuances in the horizon
on the face
to find the slope that will lift and speed to plane
to be positive in thought and action
there’s no fight with nature
only acceptance
intentional conformity
until one fits where spaces exist
sore ribs remind
that what I have is meager time