Fire-yellow glints from
rocks submerged at the evening’s edge;
the sun glides recklessly down
towards the water.
Hair falls, alight with gold,
across my face as I bend down
to touch one warm blue stone
and it is smooth, damp,
dark for a soul’s balm,
velvety like a lover.
Now kneeling on a flat rock,
I dangle my fingers into a wave’s lip
and as I wait,
the heat slips naked into the water.
The rocks, the ocean’s open face,
they know no edge.
The sun sets on this picture.
© 2008 rosie schriever
