The sea

I must go down to the seas again,
To the lonely sea and the sky.
And all I ask is a fair ship
And a star to steer her by.
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking
And a grey mist on the sea's face and the grey dawn breaking.

From memory, I couldn't quite get it right. I looked it up. This is how it stands now. John Masefield. Something that would be good to do today, good to do on many days.

Escape

To be in a place where all that can be heard are the waves and the breeze in the trees and the sand moving under the heat of the sun.
To see the sea stretching to the horizon and white clouds streaked across blue.
To feel warm bare skin, tickling foam sun kissed calves, the pull of the current pushing strength into limbs moving through the cool tourquoise water.
The taste of salt, mouthfuls of salt that give strength to a body that knows what it needs and takes it.
Pliable bones, toned muscles, a clear head.

To be there and not here with the sea in my eyes