Tonight the beach is calm, <br />tide pregnant with crabs. <br />Carib moon out; shadows <br />frolic outside like <br />flamenco dancers. <br />Surf sounds come <br />soft as silk. No sign <br />of rain tonight, no tinkling <br />on the zinc roof or pebbles <br />pelting the Miami windows. <br />Just heat, humidity and <br />that subliminal tug <br />of salt: seawater. <br />When I decide to write, <br />the images of surf will come, <br />the seaweed smells, the cicada- <br />the thoughts of day <br />slipping into night <br />Then I will write.<br /><br />Martin A. Ramos<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-at-the-window/
