A beach in winter

Waves of Godness
lapping at cold silence;
a chill gray reredos of sky
frames the play of dark and light;
the land a somber altar
to presence,
and to absence.
A curve of wave
slips along the sand
from me to you,
tracing the kitestring
of divine connection
on which our vision slides.
One key ignites us both, I do believe:
sweet mysteries,
white sparks,
flaring down the edges.
Stop -- and breathe salt-scented air;
watch the hooded mergansers
tip in and out,
sipping from the cup.