Waves

The surf's crash a coital rush
to the waiting shore. A patient
lover anticipating it's nightly deep
embrace. It comes bearing gifts higher
and higher.
A latin tango choreographed to
the slivered moon's dulcet tones.
Covering the dry grittiness with
a moisture borne across the
choppy waves of the Atlantic.
The mighty nightly ritual immovable
in its fortitude predictable and
strong in solidarity.
The lapping waves providing
a soundtrack to the birth of
morning.
The horizon kissed
with the golden red lips of
tomorrow. Soft and tender in
a farewell till they meet
again.