Moonrise

The rock pools fill, long liquid fingers
invade the mounds of seawrack
in the midday heat; the incoming
tide moves swiftly, dangerously,
covering my footprints.

It will recede: the relief is ephemeral,
the sun still burns the skin,
the craving will not be satisfied here.

Far better to wait for nightfall,
for the cool moon reflected, refracted,
as she extends a silver pathway
over the dark waves,
and silently calls me by name.