sparks too small to light the sky
flicker up
into those galaxies
that know us

the beach is cold but unselfish
with the night
the beach recalls us
and our dogs

crescent moon billows westward
tugging hearts
and wounded tides
washing us

tide and moon withdraw
in shining streams
carving eskers in a strand between
the surf and home

we memorize each fire
of our years
where it is safe and where
galaxies endure