Benicia Poem by Max Reif

Now I can hear the sound of lapping waves
beside this muddly inlet of the bay,
this beach of sorts — this narrow, dark-brown strip.

A faint sea-smell comes flying on the breeze,
and this is all it takes to light in me
the vision — look, smell, feeling, taste, and sound —
of the great Sea that swells unseen beyond
the narrow mouth spanned by a silver bridge,
from this spot just a hundred yards away —
that Sea from which these little tides have come —
and lose myself in Its vast, pure expanse.