(Sitting I)
Waves smash this jut of rocks,
this jagged triangle.
I'm at the tip, sea‐level,
breathing the spray.

It was a dawn‐call,
a short walk to the beach,
a tricky clamber,
a flat stone to rest on.

I'm working thoughts
over and over,
making myself concentrate
then letting go.
Just like the rocks and the spray