Cast into a seaworthy ship, a siren calls to shells across time
a casting line below the crag, fishing for minutes and hours.
Bellows of beasts chime with love, circling in their own melody
Like whales who warn of whistling wails, or screeches that sound
muffled under all the water, yet call across seconds to sing again.
Casting across creates noiseless ripples, each one carrying wishful
thoughts, to take and tether the pieces together, and to reach further
for reigning rings, to risk the waves against the deck, to find the froth
along the beach, bringing a piece of every grain, of sand and glass
gathered for bouquets of blissful flowers, deep underground
where the sea sounds hum in harmony, eager to find each other adrift.