Some Nights

Some nights in a small cove 
sea and shore talk endlessly 
(of dapples shallows hollows) 
seeking sun despite the polar 
breath from dark’s yawning throat 

Some nights we hear crickets 
(never sleep never sleep 
beneath warm moonwashed trees) 
composing old impromptu music 
with silent mouths and singing limbs 

Impossibly other nights 
crickets sing in that crack 
where sea answers shore 
violining melodies pitched 
between the currents of our speech