Lily's lips are blue
it's time for her to read
on a beautiful day at the beach
while elsewhere scientists
are waiting with baited breath
for a landing on a distant world
in the search for something
that's taken for granted
here in the surf.

Three

The night is young, but the day
is already old for it's age and
I am older by each day and each night,
as they roll over
polishing me like a shattered
clay pigeon in the surf.

I watch the surfers
Sleek black forms
Bobbing up and down
Odd cormorants
Flocking here
Waiting
A New England rarity
Good surf
On a bright summer day
How long
have they waited
A life of
Vigilance
And anticipation
I wonder
Why they pass
On wave after wave
Opportunities lost
Having waited so long
From my view
Up on high
Their mistakes are
Laid bare
Future and past
A Rolling set
They wait
Adrift
ocean of time
Until the right wave
Comes
And carries them
Into the present

A shark
afebrile acceded
deep in
shallows there
his teeth
lasted with
anticipation of
her bay
was akin
to high
jinks as
his floridity
was aghast
with achievement
that caught
her so
nobly again.

I dreamed I was a siren
I watched you from new points of view
under neath the water
you stroked the surface
propelling your board
I followed you down the coast
I tried not to grab your hand
knowing basic instinct was to drown
But I did it anyway
I dragged you down
I tried to fill you with my soul
But your love for the sea and mine differ
you almost made it back to land
I could have let you
But I needed you to feel my pain
I drowned you in the sea
You drowned me in the sand.

Beams of light explode over the soft sand,
i can feel the warmth on my face as i sit on the beach,
sinking softly into natures warm bed.
The light seems to turn everything it touches
into a glowing ball of light,
as if god himself is smiling down at the dawn of a new day.
The beach is deserted apart from a few seagulls
that seem to share this enlightened appreciation.
I grab my board and walk slowly towards the sand,
my feet sinking into the grains,
feeling the consistency change as the water laps at my ankles.
My wetsuit keeps me surprisingly warm
as the cold water rises slowly, and i close my eyes,
holding my board under one arm.
I smell the salt, the fresh air, this is what beauty is.
I wander in, losing myself in this new environment.
I duck quickly underwater wetting my hair and face,
floating weightlessly in the water for a second,
before rising, feeling fresh as i grab my floating board and straddle it.
Leaning forward, i can seeing fish scatter
as the first wave washes over me
like a tilde wave of emotions and stress,
i wipe the slate clean,
i am the tabula rasa and this is a new day.

you told me to prep for a new season, that what was dying is now dead
said we must steel ourselves with warmth against the first frost, it was the worst no
it was a testament or
just a test
& here, where we carve our winters from the gentle curve of the ampersand
from punctuation that's meant to bring us closer but only moves us further apart
like the swell of a gentle tide &
even the beach must face bitter winds filled with eburnean matter meant to cling to our skin
we will reenact this act, this ampersand
you are the skin
i am the surf no
i am the sand
no
i am the snow
&
nothing is warm

It's windy. The cool breeze of the ocean.
It gives,, a sense of beauty, in motion.
All is flowing, rushing and tide-
And I sit in wonder, dreaming beside.

Shells line the shore, lining and lining.
The sun is above, shining and shining.
The surf will speak softly, whispering in time,
"Oh my Love, will you deign to be mine?"

So I speak to the ocean, the Mother of all.
There's no other sound but the waves rise and fall.
Crashing, rushing, babbling in tune
Echoes the evening softness, coming so soon.