The shadows of the shipsRock on the crestIn the low blue lustreOf the tardy and the soft inrolling tide.A long brown bar at the dip of the skyPuts an arm of sand in the span of salt.The lucid and endless wrinklesDraw in, lapse and withdraw.Wavelets crumble and white spent bubblesWash on the floor of the beach. Rocking on the crest In the low blue lustre Are the shadows of the ships.