Day sliding into evening...

I have always lived by the ocean.

Known these damp days when fog slips up the rivers

And creeps between the trees as we move like apparitions of the heavy sky.

Sometimes at sunset, fog slides back to the sea.

I hurry away, alone, as if to some hidden pleasure, and wait

Scarcely breathing pinned between earth and naked sky,

For the passing of the sun.

I crave this drama, this embrace, this light

Which flares then fades

Into the slow deep breath of evening.