Flood of sunlight.
Alone on that beach,
dozing to the clock of the tide:
sibilance into sonorousness:
each wave rolling down the coast.
You walked along the water’s edge,
white cotton dress, fishing net for the sun;
beautiful.
.
When today I hear a tide’s clamour
each wave’s commotion roaring into the distance;
consider the millions of stones turning over,
the endlessness of that beauty strikes
the match of that momentary vision:
you dressed in light,
strolling the edge of eternity
just once
as the tide drummed an afternoon’s hours away.
