The Sea To Us

We took another run at the logging road
that led to the sea-mouth of San Juan
its truck-cut grooves
freshly graded
like memory re-worked.

You could sense ground-shiver
read danger from distant twists and outcrops
detect the ocean’s salt
pushing upriver
turning our hunger fluid as the chuck.

I heard the stays’ war rattle
as we tacked
closer to the gust-edge
‘small craft warning’
words packed in our stores
but what was the sea to us?