thin as a thread through the eye of calm
dawn light slips, a wet glaze over deep water:
first boom then hush, then boom again
the tone and timbre of longing
as in the voice of whales.
From our king-size bed we watch
salt plumes close to shore.
A pod of orcas fish the morning swells.
How white the foam licks the sand—
a stillness only perceived in dreams.
Two eagles skim above the sea-slick mammals.
A flat sun huddles between clouds. We lie
becalmed, sheet-wrapped, high above the ocean.
Band-tailed pigeons flap and coo on our roof.
This sky. This water. Salt on the tips of our tongues.
