I walk in the most early hours by the sea
When no one else steps on the fluid sand
But me. All seabirds dream, their faces
Covered in their sizzling feathers.
Soft silvery waves make small sleepy movements,
Thoughts and horizon becoming one, and mix
And lose themselves until nothing remains. I’m sensing.
The water washes away all proof of my existence,
But one gull is following me back,
Until I’m far enough from her nest,
And more and more I become a person with words again.