The Ocean Calls to Her Sisters in the Dark of an August Night

This air hangs down the skin of my back
like the veil of a new bride

or the gauzy covering over the face of a dancer who waits to fly
like the orange crescent that hangs in the dark of an August night.

The ocean rages against these summer shores
even as the sun shines on the face of the sky.

She is unable to contain her restless discontent
and calls out over the miles of trees and rolling hills

to the sisters she will stir to action
now that there is no reason to be silent.

Change is constant as a heartbeat in her depths
and less painful than giving birth to the tears

that erode days into years of squandered breath and broken peacemaking
with warriors who will not lay down their swords.

I make ready in these dark dunes to cross over sand and waters
to a new land where love is never rationed or reserved

but blooms in abundant beauty under the soft warmth of reason,
patience, and kindness beyond any heavenly dreaming.