SEA AT SATTAHIP (excerpted from the short story "Timing It" from "Soldiers in Siam") see Associated Links on upper left of page.

I stop, pause my normal thoughts and ask,
will I be able for long to keep you
locked within my mind
as I saw you then?
Not casting waves shoreward
by molding them out near your horizon,
building on them, pushing them onward
to slap and bathe the silent, waiting, accepting,
soft, cement-white sand
as other seas I have seen.

Just what was it then?
Some grand power
lifting the whole of your blue-green body
gently
so that your islands sink within you.
And then-
down you come, complete and sure,
all-at-once,
and at the water-land's line
a slip of you begins to rise,
imperceptibly,
then gaining to a leap, arching, tossing off a burst of drops
white and pure into the face of the Southeast Asian sun,
cresting to a carefree plunge, landing cat's paw soft,
skipping up the reaches of sand,
disappearing beneath,
loud as cat's breath.