At the beach without my poet

The second morning walk
You were on my mind.

If you were here, we would toss out lovely names.
Our words taking aim for the truth and the moment.

I would say,
“Look, how the tern folds and unfolds his wings,
He sails and pivots
An origami bird.”

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And you, the poet, would say
“Exactly. So perfect.”

And, you watching the sea shift and balance itself would whisper
“See, hear, how its heart beats.”
And I, your friend, would nod smiling satisfied.

The exhale and inhale of waves
The wash of water at our feet

And, we would kneel in veneration
Place our ears to the beach
And, listen for the profound timing of this place.

And the poet would add another keyhole to this universe.
Our place.

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