she is sometimes so full of another color
like a season she searches true the minutes
capturing them as they slip sand and wash
into the wealth of the moon and more become
listen to the crashing of her high tide
like forest at night in creep up with the leaves
waiting for the dew all crawl and rustle
she hears one grain of sand shift soft relief
she is wealth of moon and more a ramble
a tree stands with her in the tall of stretch
and scurry things twig her toe in walk along
and jam her sway along the way of best
light is such verve and frequently captured
by the chain that pulls her to design
the falling of the magic fills the chasm
and brings her to a fast focus align
listen can you hear the seasons changing
across her skin she feels it with her warm
and waits beneath the waning light of autumn
for a storm to nudge her dormant ions
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