at the edge of the sea

where the relentless surf

pounds the earth into

submissive sand

 

we sit

 

staring out at seabirds

banking in the gusts

lost

in the sudden whoosh

and hush thereafter

 

the tang of salt

that makes our eye muscles

read this.

 

wishing for buoyancy

 

wishing to lose my perspective

in the gargantuan sea

 

wishing to hear the thought train

of Neptune or Gaia

murmuring sweet somethings.