Promise of the Morning

She remembered the buoyant promise of the morning,
With sprays of sea water hitting the air like pearls,
And endless stretches of smooth sand
Untroubled by the digging feet and
Dredging hands, when sunlight softly
Pressed against the horizon
Like an inquisitive, gentle kiss.

She remembered the wild circus of the afternoon,
With laughter rollicking and voices rising
In some sort of tribal song, lit afire by
Sparkling cups of beer and the sweet smoke
Of roasting meats, when swimmers peeled
Strips of glistening seagrass off wet skin,
And eyed each other, hungry.

She remembered the urgent frenzy of the night,
When the fire blazed against the veil
Of a purple sky punctured by stars,
Setting pops and sparks into chilled breezes,
Lighting the encircled faces with a red glow,
As they joined each other, in a primal dance,
Then quietly slid away into the darkness.

She remembered the cool circumspection of the dawn,
When the fire had burned into flaky, white crisps,
And the morning breezes carried away traces
Of the raucous gathering, and sleeping
Faces were still as stones, but marked
With signs of the splendor, and all
Would part suddenly in the morning.