Photo by jimmedia on Flickr, licensed under the Creative Commons.

At high tide the ocean lays low,
every small movement slides sand
into the water. Then with a coy smile
a wave lips onto the already damp beach
and kisses the grains back into place.

In the heat of the sun, Yosemite Falls
freezes, aware of the onlookers: trees
and peaks. Its long body glistens, soaked
through with bright rays, the sharp explosion
of gravity below, melting in glacial curves.

A hurricane pours its body over hills and valleys.
It pauses over a pond, staring long into the deep
blue reflection, and whispers, “But seriously, this
is who I really am.” Then the pounding winds
resume their excavation of every loosely bound leaf.