Today is quadrille Monday at the poets pub where Lillian calls for “silence”.
twilight walks along beach as
wild breakers come crashing in
unpredictable, yet regular rhythm.
loud ocean overwhelms and
leaves salty foam, capsized shells,
strands of seaweed in its wake.
distant stars silently appear,
blinking at watery tempest below;
can anyone hear their celestial song?
a poem in my pocket 