The calico hair of sunset
floats
on a crumple-edged ocean
loose strands
turning blue silver under early starlight.
It’s the way Earth holds her head
now
down
like an old mother
ignored
lost in her prayers
or distant greener memories
or perhaps in contemplation
as another day ends
in reflection
of how star shadows fold
into the warming white-crested waves
or moon-lit breezes
glide over dwindling beaches
or what the risen seas
bring to her lesser children
from beyond
the agelessness
of breaking bits
of the plastic
manmade
horizon.