Disappearing into Blue

My being born is troubling. Leave well
enough alone, I’ve often thought, discern
the wave dares not repeat itself, it leaves
its word upon the shore, its autograph
on rocks, the idle rocks who brood, brush off
wave’s rush and pause, the moodiness of moon.
My mood like moodiness of moon but sun’s
the one who brings it on, the splurge of light,
the shadows crawling back at noon, white sails’
transparent turn as light is easing through,
a flock of birds in flight, indifferent,
the almost always elsewhere they achieve,
that something better’s out of human view,
a sailboat disappearing into blue.