Fugue I

The sea always changes
watch the shoreline
moving in -
ripples pass on -
lines of foam -
a feather
a lemon
seaweed tossed and squirrelled
the sea moves forward
takes it all with it

look out
the white foam, the waves
silver, light on silver,
always changes never still
no snapshot captures

the birds move up
in the stretching blue
tiny wisps of cloud
and the waves come ever nearer
and the gold recedes
to be taken over by the blue
by moving glass
by moving light

this liquid stuff
the world's strand
as it was in the beginning
no sound
but the waves themselves
and us
early, staring
at this wonderful thing
in the light of day

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