Continental drift

Mother Ocean tosses in her briny bed,
wrapped in a blanket of patchwork foam.
She rolls against Father Earth asleep beside her,
snuggles close to his broad-shouldered shores.

In sleep, he creeps away by inches; he loves
her dearly but like all men wants some room
to stretch. Dreaming deeply, she follows closely—
thus for a trillion nights they drift across the globe.

Curled together, softly snoring, they sleep through
tantrums of a billion children jumping on the bed.
In Sky above, stars hum and planets dance a jig,
while Earth and Sea so faithfully revolve around

the iron pulse, the incandescent passion at their core.

Calvin W. Johnson