shore

white leaves shiver in
white branches that bend
and sway with unnatural
and discordant rhythm.

small dervishes of fog
move heavy, crowded
against the ground.

invisible arms
gather flotsam and
pull it back.

there is salt
in the opalescent air,
shimmering,
you can taste it when
you breathe.

it tingles at
the back of your
throat.

time is every
second tremble,
of every leaf;
the mealy squish
of wet sand
between your toes.

the retreat of
love, or affection
in the wet, white moments
of the morning.

rope chafes, hands
cling to a heavy line -
hold fast. waves slap
loud, unseen against
wood sides.

you caught the boat
just in time,
this time,
before other arms and hands
could pull it back, fast
out to sea.