This morning on the path to the beach
the wind whistled through the scrub brush
and I answered back in the vernacular.
The ocean, unusually talkative,
threw waves and words on the shore.
I understood her perfectly.
Two sea gulls bandied a joke back and forth
in their dialect. I got it. Laughed out loud.
And while the rising sun chose to be silent,
I knew what he meant to say.