and quiet.
it's not, always, but tonight it is.
it's calm, even as the children
play in tide pools by the water, even as
birds fly above, waiting for the girls to drop something to eat.
it's quiet, even as the waves
crash enough to scare me, even as
you talk about the stars, which we know nothing of.
it's calm, even as the water
fizzes more than your champagne, even as
the scattered strangers amble through the sand behind us.
it's quiet, even as my mind
asks the questions we can't answer, even as
fireworks go off somewhere downshore, a whole month too late.
they say the beach at night is calm,
and quiet.
it's not, always, but tonight it is.