White Biocentrism

I hear the wind-woven waves clapping
by an eye-silent forest shore standing
on grey-dove island cove that wasn't stone before.

Under lighthouse oak tree-branch overlapping
backstrokes feather-winged more, tone undemanding
yet shadowesque, a quiet roar.

Soft melodies step louder, cloud swarm
like fireflies of sound
surrounding naked thought mid-shiver even though it's warm.

Tears flow in rivulet, trickle down, bed low
as wet memories break against road surface ocean-bound
damming an unmanned life raft sun-gliding grass meadow.