big as brass and randy
slowly rises like a sourdough
over the horizon in a summer's
show. Painting the ocean in

a sea of shimmering pink
like a rhubarb pie, running
juices across the sky. Ascending
into an orange blossom. Hanging

lazy like a possum, filling me
up with mystery like a poem of
Tennessee's. I snap a photo
to frame. But as I look

it's not the same. It's not like
sitting amidst the glow and
salty air. A cooling breeze blows
my hair like spider webs draping across

my face. Dancing waves splashing
spray between my toes like looping
lace.  A tickle in my nose from
the sweeping sand, as darkness slips

through my hand. Standing in a Monet
painting.  Why is night draining? The elevation
waning. The moon is not a prize. Blackness
blinds the eyes.