The thing we must say first is that it’s blue;

Next I’d venture comment upon its size;

I fear to the ocean I’d bring nothing new

Without espousing some appalling lies.

But I’ve reasoned that lies can be for good,

And can, perhaps, point to our higher truths;

Those equestrian types would have me rude

If I dissembled not my hate of hooves.

And in this case my verbal reticence,

My sneaky sealing of opinion’s doors,

Shows that I’m conflict-shy (at the expense

Of my contempt for those who would talk horse).

So when I call the tide land’s fading kiss,

Just know there’s nothing in my verse amiss.