I Sing The Ocean’s Song

I Sing The Ocean’s Song

I sing the ocean’s song

before she’s blanket gone

and pound a fisted harmony

on the sand,

keeping crystal time with the brine and bryozoa

swimming in sea-thing symmetry,

air swirling in curly-cue spindrift mist,

stretching its yawning limbs

to find refugee rest on Gibraltar-blown jetty rocks

where starfish make sucking love

and keep a gleaners check on algal growth

owed to low-tide, neaps and springs, of saltsun nativity time.

muscles mourn their bivale brothers

and give black thanks for periwinkle camaraderie

and dream of the Aegean

while snapping black arachnids

click in watery three-quarter time.