Nighttime audibility
Of the unseen sea

Is proportionate to
Its accepted daily view.

Silent waves which by day
Limp into the prevailing bay,

Sweep in, palm-tree height,
In the middle of the night,

Until at least the rain drowns
Out corresponding ocean sounds

With its thrashing seagrape hiss,
A growing tidal-wave abyss

Where imaginations braid
In the water’s masquerade,

Where rivers fall from skies
And reversely, the normal rains arise.

November 22nd–23rd