Whisperings
ghostride the ancient dialogue of pine and fir—
tide's primordial stir—
on an inhale, exhale of desire
that mists the valley in liquid fire—
white wave upon wave
cajoling, spurning—
the eternal echo, sounding the yearning
through unsullied foam—
diaphanous monochrome—
caught in its cloud of commotion, sighs into silence,
which seeps and swells the shrunken nostril thin,
saturates mouth's parched eager skin,
and permeates pores to stillness,
drop by piquant drop,
reconciling sea-drenched breath to immaculate serenity.