we sit watching the rocks
feeling the water run over us
rocks as old as those rocks
our bodies are near to naked
one day naked as rocks naked
in our lifetime some say.
what is a plant?
what are they that float in the sea & have no roots
are neither humans nor fish nor yet stones
perhaps a stem so fine we cannot see it
or in the way of vines & creepers so high on trees
that they are more part of the sunlight & world of birds
than (we guess) their original earth.
the old tale to listen to the sea
roaring of surf wind
cutting the corners off cliff & great rocks
trapped in the ears of shells.
how was it not to hear?
to answer incorrectly
to lose tongues clarity the sharp-edge
at the mercy of clumsy devices
wires & plugs.
the soft torso & legs of an infant squid on the sand / the
boys splashing in deeper water / & the liners
making their way into port
differ not in substance but in distance
this at eye-level to incoming waves
flat on the sand
raised only a few inches
the small height of gulls legs
shapes consistent with oceans & tides
colours compatible
beginning with a green base
transmuting to all blues & greys & combinations
thereof.
& in the main
jutting one hundred yards long &
as far away from the shore
rocks & rubble
forming a breakwater for small-craft & swimmers.
return to origin
when we are as close to the worms as the boys
with snorkels & flippers
as still & as green as all of this
steady
our eyes single
alternately facing sea & shore
