I jog past a grin
in the claw a crab
left behind and homes
that stilt along the shore
in case to want more beach.

I follow cloud and gull
like a ship on a sweat voyage
with a wake of foot prints
in sand surf pounds flat
as the stomach I will kiss tonight.
But the ocean is calmer
this evening than the bay
i saw last week where
my heart still floats.

A few dunes more
and what I thought
was a buoy becomes ship.
I keep jogging until we
are nose to bow and I stop to
watch it catch whatever
the sea has to offer.

What was cruel in my life
is lost now and this beach
is what church once meant.
I realize too that surf is white
because wherever prayer begins,
it ends in foam.

The sun sets the sky pink
enough to know why tourists
come and to blush the cheeks
of a young girl asked
to waltz at her