The cicadas, crickets, break the quiet
Along the beach-head, dalliance sown.
I look up at the rocky outcrop, by the beach –
Metropolis, beyond, nature’s own.
The stillness of the night rings true
At dawn, before movement of day.
Holding warm hand, eyes look through,
Hoping against hope to stray, away.
I sit and think and feel and breathe,
Nature over-takes the busy stream –
The rustle of the leaves that fall
Greets cicadas and the breeze.
The wind, the breeze, brings nature’s own,
The bird from window sill follows land –
Hand still warm, we walk along,
Barefoot in the gracious sand.
The sand disappears as high tide comes
A sign of other world, passing by –
The roadway far away, yet close to home –
Overhead is noise of those that fly.
How long can nature, sand, cicada, bird
Protect me from what day must bring?
Will eyes and hands of warmth defeat
What awaits me? Prey, to God, I sing.
A song of sweet, melodic tone –
Angels look down, protect me from
Goodness, last in line to prey –
Confess sins, the soulless, they belong.
The streets now full of who knows what,
Anonymity a strain.
Holding hand, I walk, one step, more,
Anonymity a drain.
Sand is wet, water rushes feet –
Cool breeze, yet warm in little worn –
Feeling shoulder, bare, arm wrapped around –
A smile greeted by another, born.
One wonders if she’ll follow me
Or walk beside, this fateful day –
Distance ignorant of others, near,
Our world dissolves, noise betrays.
Concrete near yet far away
Buildings reach to sky as cold light shines.
Furrowed brow on those with tie,
Lapping water, at feet, mine.
Mine and those of lover, she,
Be greater than world where we reside.
My heart will not be still this day,
Be it low or ever-rising tide.