I sit on the balcony.
End of the day. Beginning of wonder.
The sun descends, red and fat.
Touches, leaks blood into the sea.
And gold, a thin beam skimming the waves and into my eyes.
It sinks. Dips.
Drowns in the water, blinks to a point, flares in a line of light.
God’s hand on the dimmer, until it blacks.
And I, vampire-like, venturing into darkness. Hungering for life, am lured to the sand below. Away from lights and food and human sounds.
We lie under stars, sinking down on backs,
Our heads together, feet to the four quadrants.
Eyes wide for meteor.
We laugh. Ridiculous. Absurdly laugh at nothings. High on the moment until we choke and cough and breathe all raspy.
The Draconids, tonights celestial event are shy, elusive, flitting and scarce across the sky.
But the fog of the galaxy fills the vision above my head.
In the south, the moon is a razor, sharp, a sickle of light.
And Scorpio attacks its brightness. But is frozen in movement by Venus, her diamond hardness brilliant, compelling, entrancing.
All is quiet. The night a lullaby soundtrack, a mother’s hush of waves
We gather up & go in. Slip into bed, lights clicking off.
But the waves shushing in and out.
Into our rooms and beds and ears and chests
The rhythm we fall into.
Ribs and lungs and breath
Waves into and out of consciousness,
…into and out of…
…and into and out of …
And I wake to them. Later.
Trudging down and across the cold grains,
Sand pockmarked by human passage and the holes of vanished crabs.
Across the scar of coastguard tires.
I sit and dig my feet into it.
The night creaks old.
The sun stretching itself, waking, rising.
It comes in pink and blue, cotton candy mixed and cut on the bottom by the knife of the horizon.
And the day begins.