You count nail heads on salt-worn wood
Lightning writes white where floorboards stood
Storm lantern swings on rusted chain
Rain hammers flat the window pane
Search the porch while thunder rolls
Find what storm-tide steals and holds
Each flash reveals a salt-rusted thing
Each crash brings back what waves would bring
Your fingers trace the grain's old map
Where gull cries carved a crooked gap
The tide line marks the highest reach
Salt crust clings to every beam
Search the porch while thunder rolls
Find what storm-tide steals and holds
Each flash reveals a salt-rusted thing
Each crash brings back what waves would bring
A compass rose scratched near the door
Points north to where the foghorns roar
You measure knots in rope-coiled time
Each interval a storm-sung chime
Search the porch while thunder rolls
Find what storm-tide steals and holds
Each flash reveals a salt-rusted thing
Each crash brings back what waves would bring
The rockers groan on weathered pins
Wind drives rain through splintered seams
A glass float glows green in your hand
The finest catch from sea and land
Search the porch while thunder rolls
Find what storm-tide steals and holds
Last flash reveals a salt-rusted thing
Last crash brings back what waves would bring
Rock steady now the squall breaks
Salt air dries on wooden shakes
