Beachcomber

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There is something magical that happens along almost any decent stretch of beach. This was written at twilight one evening near Laguna Beach.

When twilight comes and the full sun
has lipped the bowl of earth and heaven,
lovers greet the rising moon
as it laps silver to the shore with a liquid tongue.

When the willow cries and its sighs
have called the siren singing to bay,
lovers greet the rising wind
as it rings with rushing hand the hanging chimes.

When the tidal pulls and the spray
has sealed the flavors of earth in salt,
lovers greet the coming storm
as it cleans the backward day with its thundering.

Like thunder to the flash,
Like droplets to the loam,
Lovers gather.

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