A full moon hid behind a cloud bank.
Near the horizon its oblate reflection glimmered
like a portal to heaven. The waves threw innumerable
tantrums at the yielding shore.
Grasses stood as tall and straight and sparse as sentinels.
I asked them what they were guarding, or whom.
The surf bid me hush and
The waves continued their battery.
I await a response, but the grass, and the wind, and the sea, and the moon
speak so slowly, and I haven't got forever,
like they do.
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