a call to arms
in the crash cascades
through the salty air
and among the moving clouds,
streaking across the horizon sky
the siren song
of night
drawing us to sharp moonlight
that dances across the dark ripples,
that pastes our shadow to the cool sand
this music is endless,
sacred like a Gregorian chant
with never the same note
cleansing despite the sand everywhere,
a dream-forging cauldron of strength
a roiling punch
to knock us down
when we need it
