on the turn

on the turn

calm

i will go
down to the
beach to
watch the
rain breaking
in dimples on
the water
that green
grey water
running like
the cloud above
yet still as your
gaze upon it
a full tide
on the turn
unfolding out a
ruffle of shell
the lap
of it sunk
down no sooner
than risen
a talking in it
like the voices
you heard in
a carpenter’s saw
working through
pungent wood
or the journeys
measured out in
cloud the round
and skittered
call of birds
like a stone
skimmed on that
tide full
tide taking
us down into
the fall back
the natural
grave of things
grey and green
like the tail of
a wind we
stroked once on
our very lap