Ocean's Morning

Smile at the silence, stretching not for the alarm
But just to stretch, arching with the virtue of sloth.
Running a hand through salty hair, feeling the fresh
Ocean air, blow.

Throw off the covers, kick the floor. The porch door
Is open, kissing me softly.
I stumble with sleep, feeling for unmade coffee:
Smiling at the rote folly.

The porch moves itself closer to me and I fall
Into it, landing on the railing.
The morning stings sweetly, so I squint
Meeting its harsh caress.

A hand falls through grizzled hair, happily knotted.
Rough, but soothing, the hand, the air, the sun
Lonely in the bliss.
Waves blast the shore, crashing into me.

Through closed eyes the sun and ocean vie
For sensational rights, pulling me right along
With the rising sounds of boardwalkers.
Peace.