The Shore

... tonight we make a soft
Parenthesis upon the sand’s black bed.
In that dream we share, there is
One shore, what we look out upon nothing
And the earth our whole lives.
Where what is left between shore and sky
Is traced in the vague wake of
(The stars, the sandpipers whistling)
What we forgive. If you wake soon, wake me.

-- David St. John, “The Shore”