Muir Beach, 2001

The waves are racing back beyond the blue

horizon; fleeting gulls recall their screams
to granite cliffs, as calm before they flew.
The grey within the clouds above now teems
in fury, white with rushing foam; the day
is waiting blank, as empty paper waits
for pen, as lyrics wait for singers gay
and true; it waits as even night is late.
I turn my pencil back to sunny skies
before I walked the sand, to green and gold
and dusky red, away from where I lie
and look to where the sea and sky unfold:
the rise and fall within the rise and fall,
the wasting time that flows beneath it all.

-DBR