An olfactory musing from the underside of a wooden dock - salinaceous seabreezes, sun bleached driftwood, crushed seashells, a twist of Meyers lemon peel, barnacles, mineralistic sand, and seasoaked timbers.

Voice of the sea that calls to me,
Heart of the woods my own heart loves,
I am part of your mystery—
Moved by the soul your own soul moves.
Dream of the stars in the night-sea's dome,
Somewhere in your infinite space
After the years I will come home,
Back to your halls to claim my place.

-- William Stanley Braithwaite

Art: Sea Fantasy by Thomas Hart Benton, 1925-6