This Is for the Thunder

This is for the curling
thunder beneath the waves,

the surf that rises up,
inexorably,

and spends itself,
then pulls its brief life down again.

This is for the sudden
insurrection of a storm,

a wave's fluid power—
strict, unbroken, merciless,

riding up on its own tall back,
topping into momentary stasis,

throwing its spume to the substanceless air,
then streaming home again

in one long pulse,
until only a white line remains,

delicate as lace,
drawn out across the burnished

grave stones of the beach,
marking the water's broad retreat

—the puzzle of our impermanence—
as though we sound ourselves once

and are gone again.

Copyright © 2006 Richard Brostoff All rights reserved
from The Southeast Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission