The air was thin and nebbish, the blue-green exhaling salt and the leaves cascading in silence, lulling the forest to sleep. Never before had I felt such stillness. I stood beside the greenish-blue and she didn’t know it, impervious to my devotion. I understood her and she didn’t see it. I was close enough to glean everything, how revelry pooled over and the ocean gasped, closing the tear in the void. I’m woeful to abandon the changing shallows – the small and unnoticeable polyps, kelp tangles drifting by, silvery fog on the waves. Despite the wavering surface, I bare open arms to catch the salt air. I am timorous of arousal, afraid to unearth, remiss of such trawling.