Maritime lullabye

Tonight I am listening to the wind around a sleeping house. Anxious gusts are crashing against the pine trees and foaming through the wind chimes hanging from the front porch. The dark sound breaks and burbles, gasps and groans. We need sunshine--not these waves of rain, not these tides of water rising slowly in the fields, not these beachcomber roads, freshly-strewn each morning with forest refuse (pine needles; snapped branches and the occasional polished tree limb; stranded earthworms gasping out short, sandy breaths). I want a stillness hovering over the waters; I crave calm for my hilltop sea.