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.

Lady Luna dressed in ocean robes,
It's foamy breakers frill the every fold,
Now lace then thickly new replace,
With marble ripples in the blue.

Beneath the misty front,
All swirls to seize the dying day,
The sound of waves comes dry upon the ears,
It tumbles over self,
And clumsy through the lovely rain,
And layers to its fall like threading rice,
The pitter to the patter making friends,
These little sounds all peak above their ranks,
To find a symphony and glorious song.

Why, a billow by the breach,
The sternly waves don't pace,
Nor let up but for breath,
Marked out in quite the slight-
-Ly violent crashing just abated,
Then loosely strewn all white decays,
Become the folly of the wind,
The carry-on to their beholden rocks,
Their final seat if not for such a breach,
And tameless tumble in a shocking stream,
Back to the mountain feet from whence they come.

My face in foamers' disarray,
Breaks on the sand so sparsely speckled,
Dancing polygons ever in collapse,
Like mirrors of a muddy thought,
Like all the breaking waves of unchecked hearts,
Why must it be so straight when I am else,
Why others shall I feel so cloudless clear,
Except on rainy days when I am poorly wet.