Intertidal Acceptance.

Before darkness, jumping fish come forth once more
     as if to know the pitch of their splashes
and the inlet's breathy tune mocks the falling sun's prelude
     in a strange and birdless sky.

Waiting for night to shroud my wind-frozen skin in wantonness,
     I feel the remnants of our embrace and hear the song of consent
wash away the anxiety in communion
     while you laugh in the distance.

I laugh, too, my body cast
in the shadow of transition.