Are not meant to be seen
Under a blue sky
In the full glare of the sun
Some things
Were born of the tempest
And their beauty lies
In the storm
Some things
Were born of the tempest
And their beauty lies
In the storm
While I gather mussels
To steam in seasoned water
For dinner and wine
With you, my love
While boats and whales
Ply the narrow channel
A narrow draft
‘Tween reef and land
One red one green
The channel marked
At night
Her light
Bright green
Is seen
Green on the port
To find the port
Green to starboard
Then sail the seas
Here life conforms
To wind and sea
Which cleaves the stone
With crushing wave
Sand
Grain by grain
Wave by wave
Tide by tide
Laid down
Layer upon layer
Until the shoreline
Rises
I sit in the dunes
Shrouded there too
By the tall dune grass