White Noise

                                                                          -- for Robert Tilley

After the night rains
The clouds meander the shoreline
In the steady clatter of stones
Dragged by the waves
Through their own white noise
As one does in one's own
Way of being timeless
Chattering on about the upcoming
Storm which for you
Never came.
~

One thought on “White Noise

  1. Ah, Dave, I hear those familiar stones clattering, a sound I miss living inland now. White Noise is a perfection writ small and full.

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