Drifting free from a field of tangled clouds,

Like a white swan gliding beyond the marsh grass

Into a tranquil sweep of ebbing sea,

Luna mezza waxing gibbous,

Floats gently upon the open sky.

Myriad shards of calcified mollusk husks

Persist amid the smooth white pebbles,

All wave tossed and tide lost upon the strand.

Gliding swiftly over the prints,

Pressed by bare feet walking

In the numbing cold November sand,

Silent moon shadow trails

In a fluid unperturbed wake.

Earlier, with faint orange smudge upon the sea,

Vestige and refrain of parting sun,

The moon still gauze thin and wan.

Now, in the fullness of this night,

Bestows stark white, a brilliant radiance briefly hung,

A breath suspended.

A fresh shoal of clouds ominously rises,

Consumes Venus and sweeps inexorably onward

To once again engulf the moon and suck away the light.

Amid the pallid gloom tumbling wave crests mark the sea's touch,

Above, the dune grass in the rising wind hisses its hubris,

Defying the insatiable surf.

The broad black serpentine line of sea wrack,

Which bare feet abhor, lies in menacing wait

Trailing off, without pause or respite, into the dark oblivion.