Awake at night

HIGH TIDE
Awoken on this windless night, I am aware
of roaring, as the sea pulled by the waxing moon
stills every other sound. There is
no rush of traffic on the road, no night-bird song
only the rumble of the waves, a trumpet
on alternate notes: soh fah,  soh fah, the moan
of conch shells in my ears. My blood
pulses more quickly and my skin chills with
the salt breath of growling breakers as
they bare their teeth.