i hear a chorus in breaking waves 
a school of voices stranding 
run aground where surf is pounding 
land after shipping echoes over half the world 

by riding the humboldt current singing 
slow sea swirls of wind and moon 
the way a wet finger calls wavering trills 
circling the rim of true crystal glass 

here with my native continent at my back 
as foam shakes out its tresses to wash my feet 
i am primed to call the sea lions mermaids 
the slow sussuration of waves a prayer