waves
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By Gene Lemcio
Some waves pound shores
with clenched, white-knuckled fists as if to underscore a crucial (or an empty) point to every pebble—dense, inert-- and shiny, languid kelp with summersaults of froth and foam. Still others slap the contoured beach palm-down with fingers spread, but shaped and manicured by slopes, slants and obstacles of mixed debris that speed, slow, block their growth at varying rates before the sure withdrawal and the next attempt. Mild-mannered ripples hardly cause a stir except, perhaps, to flick the life that teems in microscopic specimens. There, eddies heave whole worlds of work and love, whose fragile mass and voice yet modify each new assault. 
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Eugene Lemcio, Emeritus Professor of New Testament at Seattle Pacific University, taught there for thirty-six years. He earned an M.Div. from Asbury Theological Seminary and a doctorate from Cambridge University (Trinity College). Gene began his academic career at Houghton College with a B.S. in zoology (and a minor in chemistry).
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