On the Shore by the Ocean

Walking alone on the shore by the ocean,
Where waves are unfurling like cold dragon's wings,
Driftwood comes floating in shapes grim and distorted;
With bellowing surf the deep ocean sings.

'Neath a small yellow moon, above cold briney spray
Are black silhouettes that facelessly flutter,
Keeping their secrets, betraying no aims;
Silently fly with not a peep nor a mutter.

And the small yellow moon is briefly occulted
By great vasty wings that encompass the sky;
Eclipsing the stars and sleeking the water--
As suddenly gone, and the surf breathes a sigh.

And o'er all, the music of wind and the water
Whispering secrets too subtle to hear,
But understood only by strange intuition:
Too eldritch for joy, more awesome than fear.

Wand'ring in silence through grey-litten dreamlands
Brought on by reading an abhorréd tome;
Then, timidly, sunlight leaks through the shutters,
Ending the vision and bringing me home.

© 1998 Alan Peschke