On circuits thrash such seaward beasts,
So stormstruck turned upon the shores,
And all the open maw is stretching sea,
Such life in every quaking strike,
Such beauty in the breadth,
When all is frantic winds the heart erupts.

I don't mind this pace of life,
Slowly punctuating empty space
With unhurried words in single aim
Of catching up and willing good,
A lovely home to build and sit therein.

The frost is as starlight,
Sun scattered to galaxies through the dew,
I watch these frigid mornings bloom,
Like a candle snuffed at daybreak,
The frost is gone, the warmth deep set beneath,
The frost is as whispers.