Surging against her tether, a furled sailboat
with dark waves colliding in frothy spumes
across her deck, drenching all hands as they
hasten to fasten down rigging and hatches
With these building gales, the neap tide sweeps in
ungoverned breakers, fiercely crashing our shore
to engulf all jetties, crush all seashells-
vanquishing sand castles guarding the coast
Reaching into the free surf, a fading dock,
and there, alone on one end, his arms crossed,
my uncle - implacable - faces this sea,
as gusts sculpt the dunes into an abstract.