Waiting for the call

For now, I stop, resettle

to remember through my palms

how the earth song thrums.

Branches crosshatch, climb

into the nesting blue

beyond my sight.

Good eye closed, I

let discernment fade

between brush and bough,

here and there, bee and cloud.

Back where I came from,

workers buzz at the sea wall,

find faults, write reasons.

New waves play

around them, the rising tide.