by Neal Whitman
mist settles on
the soft harbor
surf sounding gentle
ship horn and seal bark
in rain on shore under fog
we know they are there
four buoys below
no one on shore but gulls
On the Bluff
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I can see myself standing above Moonstone Beach. I yearn to be there and have the fog wash over me and hear the roar of the waves. Neal, you captured the coast perfectly.