Temporal to the White Sea (As told by a critter to his kind)

October 2003, Blank Verse

The sea was blue for gravity, appeased,
Had pulled the blood of sky unto her depths,
With cold hand, tucking every tide between
The sands, as space calmly skipped asteroids
Across her breadth. In step with time, she took
A breath, nevertheless, quite hydrokinetic
And asymmetric—just this once. It’s said

Her shadows housed red fire—a vein between
The trenches and mountaintops, aloft, embraced
In nimbostratus—plentiful and racing
At a catastrophic alien pace.
The breeze, She held a sip of mist, permit a taste—
A tease of seasons, nonetheless, displaced—
Then hopped a hill to quench the groves who grew
As tides unto thus high. And as an eye
Who never winks, our clearing fathomed fate
At hand. Her lush grass grasped in fist of soil,
An offering to tempt the wave to land.

Now sea aside and trees asunder, close
We sit in history’s cold wake, the dark
Blue skyline silenced by a cumulous
Rouge silhouette with solar eclipse drawn
Upon—her lunar awning from folklore
And myth, eons beyond this campfire pit.