Wave Guide

And out there, past the horizon, the wind is already breathing again.

At first, it is a question. A swelling of the belly, a curve too slight for the eye to trust. Then, as the seabed rises to meet it, the question sharpens. The trough deepens. The crest curls into a glassy lip, holding the light like a held breath. And out there, past the horizon, the wind

Here is the wave in its moment of perfect arrogance: suspended between sky and stone, translucent and green, a moving mountain that has forgotten it must break. And out there