The water always comes in white
When the sun is dying,
Wave after wave carries forward
The curls of distant wars.
Our footprints run together
And then dissolve—
Such kindness there is in violence,
Such promise in diminution.
Soon there will be nothing left to see,
The rustling swells will be a theory.
The birds cross over an inch above our heads
And head into a definite purple.
We only are alive
As we sense the shoreline breathing.
