Like the coming of the seasons
Expected yet revered
the tide whispers in
bringing with it
the cries of the oyster catchers
to soothe my weary brow.
Foam twists and wanes
rushing to my form
only to turn tail
and reappear within a ripple of time.
This water holds my soul
She heard my raging birth
as I heard her raging heart
We are connected
My turmoil hers
her turmoil heavily mine
as the moon sits uneasily
upon her horizon.