A SONG TO WRITE ON A WAVE

Scorched days stretch across the emptiness.
In the waves of time the sea chimes
and strikes its hours ahead
to rust and die away;
it sizzles into sands
where the crab carves out
wet galleries the tide comes caving in.

The sea has words that mingle, and crackle
through when the earth listens in
to its song, repeated across the stones,
waves upon showers of hours.
An eternal sea shell are the ocean and its name.
Across its stranded body
all the nights wash up.

Sea: broken mirror
to the deserted moon.