By the ocean                       water lapping
Frigid water
He goes in.
Distracted                           water lapping
Disconsolate
he goes in.

From the cliff edge              surf as background,
Puffin counting,
Ingi spies,
Ankle deep now                  water lapping
Surf besotted,
Bjorn, his son:

Like he’s dancing
Hula dancing
Hips responding
To the waves

Scrambling shoreward       water pounding
Ingi feels the
sound of surf
Mesmerizing                        water lapping;
In the ocean
In the waves

Reaching out as
Bjorn goes under,
Ingi finds a bit of cuff;
From the ocean’s
Heaving, lulling                   water lapping;
Hauls him gasping until reaching the black basalt stone and sand beach.