Hurricane II

                  I'm too near the ocean 
                   to finish up a stream. 
                 Standing on this precipice 
                 I dream a sailor's dream. 

                 Thoughts of river sources, 
                     seem too far away. 
                  I cannot see beginnings 
                    oozing out of clay. 

               Waterfalls are hard to climb, 
                    harder near the top. 
              Fighting current's not my style, 
                      easier to drop. 

            Waves sometimes turn tidal, though, 
                  storms breed hurricanes. 
               Perhaps if I assault the land, 
               She'll have to learn my name.