Mill Creek

A little ways north of Mill Creek the beach runs round to a single wide arcing swath Where the tide stems landward in shattered segments fast against the open mouth of sea and sand and barnacle There is also a cliff near the free stone rising above the under-base of a million waves throttling a darkened face Somewhere out of sight from landlocked eyes salt water still churns And churns for a million years oblivious to the damage inflicted on the crumbling mass It's as if the big bass drum of agonies from time immemorial strums a one note dirge And thereby summons the shelving mist to curtail the pitiful death from the tired eyes of a dumbfounded poet Who loiters in the wet hiss like a reporter in search of tragedy and finding none, returns to home