Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Down to the Beach

I walked down to the beach today
Passing Queen Anne’s Lace along the way
And clambered down the rocky slope
And eyed the beach with newborn hope.

I crossed the rippled red-brown sand
And clutched a damp stone in my hand
The sun burned through the haze-fogged sky
And made me shade then squint my eyes.

I walked by pools of emerald wrack
I walked until I need turn back
I felt I’d trekked near half-way home
I felt I need no longer roam.


Ox-bowed streams run their braided courses
Draining the land of yesterday’s showers
Returning them to the sea.
Willets and sandpipers,
While probing the sand for their daily morsels
Play with the surf, I swear
Like children loose of foot and care.

I follow the tide
So mystified
Called to its far flung reaches
Listening to that sweet enchanter
Yearning to pay homage
To our mother-home the sea
A tribute felt phylogenically.

And after legging over a million traces
Of crab and worm and bird
I found the lip, the line-drawn limit
The boundary for the moment
The edge of land and sea.
And as I stood and faced this broad horizon
I felt that I was already half-way home…
And then from silent consideration
I turned with this brief benediction:
No, I already am home.
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