Rumble of waves,
Tumble me along 
Lanes of time, 
Are these glimpses
Of the past,
Or memories of the future,
Or things that cannot be saved,
Like the perfectly imperfect
Performance of a song.
We settle in,
Plenty right here,
In Paia.
On the first morning.
A chat with a windsurfer photographer,
As we watch the water,
Locals skim along the surface,
In tune with ocean frequencies,
As the turtle whose head pops
To say hello,
And the whales far out
Sending spray skyward 
To signal their welcome.