Song of Sand, Song of Sea, Song of Leaving, Song of Leaves

“Here Comes a Regular,” Balboa Pier

I own this song like a buffalo nickel, carry it around to offer the air every day or two when I'm alone in the garden, the shower.

*
And now it drifts through the parking lot and out beneath the pier, a bit of musical tulle fog lapping at beach towels, a song so secret I'm sad to hear it leak from a low-slung El Camino.

*
The bubbling edge of a broken wave is singeing Walt’s ankles, his first time by the sea.

*
Beyond him a line of pelicans shoots the pier heading north, wings wide and still in the inch of air above water; Walt turns to yell, mouth full of wind, his words torn apart by the wake of Pacific waves.

*
The El Camino leaves the parking lot and leaves behind my song of leaves: First the lights then the collar goes up, the wind begins to blow ... First the past then the leaves that last, here comes the snow.

*
Catalina floats in the deeper distance like a cloud settling on the water as Walt breads himself with sand, rolling toward the ocean, singing.

*
I walk down to the water to hear his new voice, changed by the sea, to help him wash the beach off his body.

*
And Walt wants to know did I see the birds.

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And Walt wants to splash me, the cold Pacific: he’s laughing and so am I, each of us someone’s, each of us fearless, within reach.

* James Harms is the author of four books of poems, most recently Freeways and Aqueducts published by Carnegie Mellon University Press. He directs the MFA Program at West Virginia University.