Even in the fog and dark wind
I can feel the tide coming in,
the steady wash and swell,
and sea salt along the shore,
and I try to make myself empty
to no avail.
    Somewhere ahead I imagine
an avenging angel, one of a swift
shadow and sure ending, and I can
almost feel its beating wings,
a predator breaking from cover
in full autumn sail.
    But for now in this hour
the sea’s lapping continues and
it’s like an animal breathing
against the beach.  I listen with each
light touch of the surf, and my hand
moves inside your silence, inside
your life and body’s warmth.