Thick, dank, dark mist kisses

shoulders of pale eternity;

rides rich waves to gallant beach,

sand awash from shore to shore

pulls and tugs like tide’s own whore.

Explicit motions from the deep

creep beneath tsunami of storm;

winds blow and roil atop the turmoil

of the sea’s own magnificent store,

leaving treasures of salty gore.

See now how sunset bows low in the sky

and how the sea reaches up to caress;

such beauty in the searching eye,

not a single scene out of place this day,

seagulls soar o’er all in painted shades of dismay.

To sit and watch from driftwood bench,

along the tall sea grasses line,

one notices things that weren’t before,

while digging toes deep into still warm sand,

reaching for security of a lover’s hand.