Mariscal Breeze

Along the ocean
edge and beach sand
a ghost crab races
a lone white triangle
on the horizon,
the breeze firm
as it kisses waves,
a spotted dog
chasing a ball thrown too far,
the yips
and barks
coming in
and out
with the smell of her
coconut-oiled skin
browning softly
as my loose hair,
beach umbrellas,
the wings
of a passing bi-plane,
distant moriche palm trees
and book pages
dance together
en masse
as she sleeps.