Nimbus

You are the sea; I am a cloud that hovers high, humming to your salty ear, my need to feel your ripples. I long to touch your ocean belly with electric tendril fingers. The horizon brings us nearer, enough to hear your breathing: the hollow clap of waves on rock with eels beneath the surface, the sighs of a quiet morning surf. When it rains, I've wept with ancient jealousy. An envy of all that scuttle across your naked shore. But you’ve children in your water for the first time, discovering the tiny, frenzied fish around their toes. I am no monster, but a nimbus and a voyeur, seduced by teasing sands. Reveal to me the groaning beasts below. Let my lightning draw them out, let it kiss them on the nose.