This is the light i remember
atlantic dusk and easterly wind
warm wash stealing the beach
from under my feet my hands
cold in my pockets and my hood up
the sun long set behind the dunes
and the sea oats bending to nation
voices of those i believed
stripped to vowels above whitecaps
as if lost futures were gales over water
piers in the distance defining my limits
narrowing to vanishing points
at both ends of this bar
