At the ocean I remember right sound,
waves drawing down to sleep,
gulls sounding across the calm.
I remember right body,
loping out on the flat of low tide,
falling into water flying out alive.
Right food with friends
to celebrate the beginning of spring,
seared meat and vibrant green,
colorful eggs cracked in the sun.
Right drink the sweet bitter of whiskey and coffee and salt air.
A long winding road along coast before turning inland home,
back up the river to be content by falling waters
until once again right by the sea.