I see it coming.
Always just a little too late.
Barely a ripple at distance
approaching with great speed.
Yet barely disturbing others
on it’s path towards me.

Closer now.
Rising up
in the shallows;
A crescendo of
water lifting
to the heavens.
      I wait in fear.

It hits me
with the force of a million butterflies
fluttering in disjoint-unity against
every surface of my skin.
The friction of their wings baking me
As I flush
      and look for a place to hide.

Then it is still.
The shapeless form
of a million pairs of wings
Drifting into the distance

      And a smile.
      A shy smile,
      Left upon my face.