Matt and Martha, holding hands on the seashore, steal
a kiss and walk away, defying universal
law and tides, new moon and cause-effect.
Recalcitrant, a higher tide cuts
them off with a lunging silver hiss.
Matt is there, Martha’s there: reaching
water, running feet, waving hands, their cries
for help come unrestrained, again, again.
Who know the rest; when sea as teacher surges
up at regular folk, like you and me, in love?