Attention, like a slow strobe
that peers into the ocean,
that can spot a passing ship
and warn her before she splits
her precious cargo onto
the sharp shores.
A lighthouse and old, pensive
as our first radar, spinning
with his back turned to no one,
standing and spotting a light
onto the land, then the rocks,
then her hull.
He can adore her only
in passing, with a harsh glow,
then turning onto the next
alluring thing; fertile ground,
beachhead, the dicey edges
and waves, vacant.
Thom Ingram 
I like the 3 line form. Nice flow of words and quite a tranquil sound to the entire poem.
“standing and spotting a light
onto the land, then the rocks,
then her hull.
He can adore her only
in passing, with a harsh glow,
then turning onto the next”
These lines especially captured my attention and carry the poem to great heights. One of my favorites of your poems so far. Keep writing 🙂