Fata Morgana

Partway into the night

I could hear movement

out in the darkness.

The sound of small waves

breaking on a beach

is unmistakable.

Gentle as a pond

and smelling of salt

and seaweed.

All that was missing

was the cry

of seagulls.

Both had been

examples of

deliberate entrapment.

And once again

I experienced that

sensation of trespassing.