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?