Petrichor thick in the shore with crabs writing
their sounds across its surface, collected
by the tide and guarded by the brine.
Calmed the rage, stoked the wild
Tears rolling into waves rushing back
cormorants, gulls, osprey they cry in my stead
wings of my heart breathe with them,
feathers lifting, diving.
Stone, shell and sand lined pockets
glass jars to hold the hours a lifetime
away from shores
I count backwards and forwards dialing
into that moment.
The sun split fire down through the water,
sand chasing bare feet, cold. Rolling rocks,
flames catching at the stars and
embers falling with stories and memories
older than me. Hair swept wind, home.
