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