seaside

the waves gently touch
raw sandbed, ebbing out
welcoming, it sweeps
slowly the sun goes down
the waves rush on,
the sand inviting
not resisting powerfully
taking pulling closer
ebbing has become a faster motion
the hunger can be sensed
the waves move
up and down
a more frantic rhythm
of love of caressing
touching, fingers of the waves shifting the sand
speeding up, the sun's going down
coming up, coming out
the earth breathes
rushing in tiding out
and then it all stops
as if its come to rest
relieved, its satisfied.
the moon has risen
to her daily place
having missed the passion
of the waves