QUOTE : <b>Tides</b><br />Every day the sea <br />blue gray green lavender <br />pulls away leaving the harbor’s <br />dark-cobbled undercoat <br /><br />slick and rutted and worm-riddled, the gulls <br />walk there among old whalebones, the white <br />spines of fish blink from the strandy stew<br /> as the hours tick over; and then <br /><br />far out the faint, sheer<br /> line turns, rustling over the slack,<br /> the outer bars, over the green-furred flats, over<br /> the clam beds, slippery logs, <br /><br />barnacle-studded stones, dragging <br />the shining sheets forward, deepening, <br />pushing, wreathing together <br />wave and seaweed, their piled curvatures <br /><br />spilling over themselves, lapping <br />blue gray green lavender, never <br />resting, not ever but fashioning shore, <br />continent, everything. <br /><br />And here you may find me<br /> on almost any morning <br />walking along the shore so <br />light-footed so casual.