This morning on my walk the sea was on her white horse, galloping at such speed froth spewed from her mouth, her white ruffled shirt bellowed and tossed about in gigantic folds of energy. Sea was a woman sure and unafraid and her scent, alluring, flair the nostrils with its alluring vaginal froth. She chased my feet way up shore and had me running to escape her surging invitation to join her in wild abandonment, to fall into her arms, and her carried by her with horses, surrender to the buoyancy, to be tossed and rolled, my nose full of her. But caution made me observe her keenly and knew she was not in the mood for company; she was raging, delightful in her aloneness, ferocious in her freedom. And I thought to myself, one day, one day I will ride these white waves with such confidence, white skirt billowing, wild, unpredictable to control, galloping on my white horse, the sea my field.