The wave reached its peak. Curling,
it crashed upon The Black Stone.

We sat—legs dangling off walls edge—watching.

The whispering waves spoke their prophetic secrets,
and we saw ourselves reflected in the pool.
Clearer during high tide but ever-present nonetheless
when the sea was low, wet sand slightly exposed.

tell me silence
so I can know

burn me fire
and in your glow

the whispering wind
will let me show

endless nights
bring us close

but in the day
we will go

summers life
is at its end

autumns death
now here begins

so let us not
sleep through the cold

but work to live
keep close whats told

from mothers breast
and fathers hand

we’ve been given
to this land

coyotes yell
will tell us still

and eagles scream
hard and shrill

she is not ours
to keep or ****

but we are hers
with love to fill