Mary By the Sea

It was a question unexpected
while thinking by the sea—

¨Where were you a moment ago?¨

Out far on the mystical assumption of waves
where what the eye no longer sees
is cared for by the sun.
I arrived there, coppery wet
from this font of tidal glory,
full of awe and just a bit of seaweed
caught in a wrinkle of my sleeve.

I went there to pray.

You nodded, and pointed toward a fish
who in the merriment of evening light
seemed to be smiling.
And perhaps that was a wink?

c. MperiodPress