The Search White summer moon on the waves Sadness in the throat of the sea The tide from a wider coastline gnaws these headlands Ocean is breaking open memories Watch the somnolent years rouse themselves Wake back where the sun slaves us Where the tributaries choke with sickness Tales stir in these fathoms of silt They birth on the baked clay banks Rise in the estuaries as islands of yellow sand Hear our brittle histories crackle like leaves The rains tear furrows in our faces Time and children darker hollows When night is a warm skin to wear I will look up to that sky's wizened men Search those extinguished stars for gods. Robert James Berry Back to the Astrophysicist's Tango Partner Speaks