Will the last one coming home
please ask those birds
brazenly perched tonight
silhouetted against the clouds
to leave on the full moonlight
of June unclothed, unclouded
prayerfully kissing each flower
that dared bloom briefly
dropping petals one by one
while distant waves crashed
overlapped in wordless rhymes
endless ancient hymns
to hatching terrapins,
nesting shore birds without
yellow sand shovels or broken buckets
left behind beyond the path
winding through cedar shade
towards the beckoning light and
bumblebees on beach roses
annoying green flies
darting and dipping dragonflies
all this has been given to you
thirsty tired traveler your heart
half full half empty with hope
rest your parched throat from
talking with seagulls who strut so
confidently, so undiminished
silent lessons we should decipher
so in our chosen blindness
we stand firm, the ocean at our side,
countless inconspicuous
stories remaining hidden
continually creating, offering
slim glimpses of calm curtains parting
while a dying sky reflects upon
shallowed waters over smooth sand
pale pink blue hued fog
hovering and hugging the horizon
the future no longer visible
my uncertain dreams indefinite
so I told the last one coming home
to ask the birds to care for the moon
kiss the flowers daring to bloom
while ocean and sky did their nightly dance
oblivious to smaller things as bumblebees
and other nontrivial beings wearing wings
but not those who look to the sky
finding a place to question why not
243
*thanks to etouffee for believing this could be pared down from 528
*and to the ones I asked