Tonight the beach is calm,
tide pregnant with crabs.
Carib moon out; shadows
frolic outside like
flamenco dancers.
Surf sounds come
soft as silk. No sign
of rain tonight, no tinkling
on the zinc roof or pebbles
pelting the Miami windows.
Just heat, humidity and
that subliminal tug
of salt: seawater.
When I decide to write,
the images of surf will come,
the seaweed smells, the cicada-
the thoughts of day
slipping into night
Then I will write.

Martin A. Ramos

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-at-the-window/