by Gideon Burton
Consider this: the hushing surf recedes,
the foamy salt massages speckled sand,
then rushes in again as though a grand
crescendo would engulf the bending reeds.
Observe again: with tides the ocean bleeds,
as though the ballast dropped by time had rammed
the belly of the watery beast, undammed
the lower fountains, now erupting seeds
of mint fluorescence, bursting plankton pods
in deep arrays of filtered, flickering light.
Descend and breathe: the waters bring you home
within the firmament, the womb of God,
the saline matrix churning years of night
to paste against the edges of this dome.
Photo: flickr - karma police