As the undulations collect and disperse,
betray the deep water’s shared weighty calm,
sunlight crests the melting cloud cover,
sparks and wobbles
in the prism emerald and blue.
The breath of an idea puffs into the chill.
An emotion stirs and wakes.
. . . the last time we spoke
our conversation abruptly ended
though I don’t recall the reason.
I wanted to ask you why
(in so many words)
you still wanted to engage me
despite the fact that we’d likely
never see one another again
after that interaction . . .
Most days, peering out to sea eases
my own agitations. However on that morning,
toes ground into the damp sands,
the air soaked and unpleasant to breathe,
I drew a half-vacant memory:
“It was she who was waiting
for words that never came.”
. . . all across the waves, quiet echoes
in valleys that once were peaks.
And even their momentous beauty