©2001 by Lori L. Howell
To hear the thrusting waves against the rocks
where you stand; during the calmness in a storm.
Every creature’s senses are aroused by the
different smells from the sea.
A cloud of dew leaves a taste of salt on my lips.
The foghorn blows to stir a moment of silence.
When I close my eyes your light captures my spirit;
embracing us into one.
My vision is your secrets of passing days,
awaiting the flight to eternity.