MEMA AND JACKIE WATCHING THE OCEAN AT 6 AM
In Jackie’s eyes was the corona
of the sea,
hidden shapes of the ocean’s sleeping,
before the flight of pelicans swooping over.
Jackie whispered to MeMa, his grandmother,
what he was seeing.
She alluded to pirate treasure
in the sand.
Jack confided later of great tsunamis
the sea threw at the shore,
drowning bluffs and mountains.
This morning, light
was no more than a flower,
so sheer it passed through stone,
and fell like candle wax.
He and MeMa heard the wind
talk to the ocean,
surf carrying seashells up the sand,
conjoining shore and water.
How long, since anyone
visited this time of day
when the glowing enveloped waves?
Made breakers look like dolphins circling,
and the sea,
sounding an ancient calling
from its depths,
to MeMa and Jackie,
alive as they.