I am in love with the Ocean,  lifting her thousands of white hats in the chop of the storm, or lying smooth and blue, the loveliest bed in the world.

In the personal life, there is always grief more than enough, a heart-load for each of us on the dusty road.

I suppose there is a reason for this, so I will be patient, acquiescent.

But I will live nowhere except here, by Ocean, trusting equally in all the blast and welcome of her sorrowless, salt self.

Mary Oliver, Red Bird