Tideposts

Gulls cut arcs above the foam,
Waves strike ribs of weathered wood,
Salt claims each splintered home,
Wind repeats what time has stood.

Posts align in quiet strain,
Holding lines no map could trace,
Sea returns, again, again,
Erasing edges, leaving space.

Brown kelp knots the breathing shore,
Drift and fragments press the sand,
Each small ruin hints at more,
Cycles none can countermand.

Clouds descend in muted gray,
Horizon blurs its measured seam,
Day resists, then yields to sway,
Motion governs every theme.

Birds convene, then break apart,
Wheeling through the salted air,
Instinct writes a living chart,
No fixed boundary holds them there.

I stand where the elements meet,
Feel the pulse beneath the roar,
Earth and water interbeat,
Nothing fixed, yet something sure.