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


*thanks to etouffee for believing this could be pared down from 528

*and to the ones I asked

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