seafoam soulShe stood in the low tide–
Sun licked and salt kissed
Legs exquisite like a heron’s. She hummed
to herself—and became electric.

The way a sad song
Played beautifully can bring joy.
The way the last rays of evening light
Acquiesce to the dark of night.

At best a semicolon–
A momentary pause. At any instant,
Rendered mute by beauty.

Beyond the branch where I sat
there was nothing. Beyond her
green eyes reflecting the shiny sinews
of sardines-the fear of my breath
abstracting the perfection.