Storms River:
Chaos Theory
C. J. Driver


     I watch the winter waves all day
To guess the places they'll start to gather up
And lift, and lift so slowly to the cusp
     Which hangs a moment as it breaks
In sudden downward curve of lighter green
     Before the backward spray of spume
          Which tags the wave
Appends a rainbow briefly to its edge.

     Though gravity has not yet trapped
The further stars in ordered evidence
(For light allows I may not see them now
     Where curves the fleeting universe)
This random music in my head includes
     The rainbow, cusp and spray,
          The light and stars,
The wave's return, the certain night to come.