Language of the Tides

The tides have lost the sandy tongue,
the shore seeks it among shells and salt.
I gather it up, to teach the stars how to breathe.
Each wave retrieves a forgotten word,
clear as the moon, taut as a compass of light.
Grammar bows to the breath of the sky.
To speak to the stars is to go back home,
with a voice that turns the wind into verbs,
and the night listens, learning the lost tongue.