Four half-grown figures start
down the precipitous headland
hung with crimson ice plant.
Ceremonial as a crucifer,
each with his surfboard raptly faces
the blue-mauve insomnia of the sea.
They place their boards like prayer rugs
kneeling with reverent grace
to the messianic wave
forever watched for
forever coming.
With tireless love
they offer their frailty
to that hypnotic vastness,
oaring with their arms
toward the horizon whence comes their hope.