Fade to White

The surf mimics the clouds,
the ever shifting foam
forming, reforming, deforming,

as clouds above
seem to glide along
on waves of wind
onto unseen breakers,
creating shapes, forms
and imaginative images,

as a sonata of surf sounds
whose tone and timbre
seem tide-timed,

while the winds aloft
orchestrate these
humid hulks
in mute movements,

I add sound
to this silent scenario,
the sounds of the surf,
with crescendos and rhythm,

the clouds pay me no mind,
like “herding cats,”

as I strive for a symbiosis
of sound and movement,

the sun sets,
I am left,
undone.

TP.