The Drumming Ocean

He wakes up to my words and he finds joy
To feel the drumming ocean in the dark;
I wonder if the darkness might deploy
A camouflage, so that amusements start
The day off rather well, as he entrusts
His vigour to the silence of the night;
The thrumming in the distance and the sucks,
That are more proximate, ensure delight;
 
He wonders, as he's serviced, who's the muse?
But does it really matter, if it aids
The ambience, I hope, that he would choose?
To realise ambitions, he parades
A certain morning puissance that creates
An opportunity as he awakes...