Then on the eighth day
God went walking down the Outer Banks, 
saying as he walked "Behold. This is good." 
Toward the end of the day he stopped,
and looking far ahead to the south, 
saw more of the same.

And God said "This is all well and good, but..." 
And you could tell from the gleam in His eye 
something earth shaking was about to happen.

And God winked at the land 
and unleashed it. And the land, 
like a young dog let loose 
running nowhere but in joy,
took off and made a run at the water.
And the land, turning on its heels, 
jackknifed the coastline westward.

Of course the water did not 
take this intrusion standing still
and took steps to send the new point packing.

All around the point, half way to the horizon, 
the water whipped up a frothy frenzied brew of white cap and chop 
and pummeled the point with unrelenting one-two punches:
blue-wave jabs leeward, green-wave pounding blows windward.

And a thousand gulls gathered, 
to rubberneck the ruckus, 
and shrieked above the roar.

And a billion shells lay shattered, 
victims of the fracas, 
and lay strewn along the shore.

And countless curious angels 
fought for ring-side seats 
and shouted out for more.

But the land held firm 
and twitted the water saying, 
"You are beautiful when you are angry!"

And the water rose to the occasion
and spat back saying,
"You want angry, I'll show you angry!"

And so it went, back and forth, to and fro.

And God, looking out upon the point, said, 
"Behold. This is good. This is very good."


Cape Lookout Sunset

Towards twilight they come again to watch:

the old bunkers pounded by older waves,
waves set aglow by an older sun,
the sun cradled by their eternal God and gently laid to rest;

those old men watching from the dunes,
their eyes tracing the horizon and beyond,
those liberated children!


That Mid-May, Mid-afternoon

That mid-May, mid-afternoon
out towards the point
with a gin-sharing friend
a skin-caressing wind
and skies so blue
it was as if darkness
would never come again.


Walk to the Lighthouse

On that long walk to the lighthouse,
breath by breath, stride by stride,
word, will and wish
gave way to
sand, see and sky,
and the quiet, startling moment.