not really fond of capitals

when I think of it, I'm not so fond of capitals -
okay, maybe a couple, maybe half a dozen
at the most, there's home of course, goes without saying,
and some more around the mediterranean

but not those shouty ones that stand guard with their arms
at attention before each stanza, each sentence,
why must they be so strict about marking the start?
is it so clear always - the beginnings and ends?

do you know where this thought stopped and that one rose
like a mist from the waves? the horizon and sea
merge so often into one, but in any case
one's fluid and the other's imaginary.

go look for the end, there's no clear line in the sand
just a band of wetness between the sea and land.