As the lighthouse

blinks its eye,

the seabirds laugh;

as soon as coastal rocks

dive backwoods to the sea,

when boats below

do collide, harmlessly,

into themselves.

And as long as

the shore-wind blows

its crystal salt kisses

to nightwalkers lips,

scattering diamonds

along coastal paths,

the pebbles,

pulled by the moons lost drink

clap their celebration.

All the while,

glimpses of

an alternative life;

noticeable by chattering

at every opening of a door.

Everything,

near-bye,

chased by a yellowed light;

bathing and outlining

loyal machines as

they click;

to temperatures

of their original setting.

Somewhere

the tired,

the travelled,

stare at waters old,

new, then old,

from cliff-faces resting.

Before deeper into night

arrives a more peaceful light

and so the lighthouse

shuts its eye.