Monday, August 3, 2009

On Patrol

I am on patrol.
I post sentry on each early morning
And then again late afternoon
Walking the tide-bathed sweeps of sand
Seeking but not finding
A horizon that may be hidden
In the uncertain blur of fog.

My duty is to watch and see
Listen and then hear.

I am new at my post
And alone,
Although I walk in parallel tracks with others
Who work the same shoreline,
We do not meet
And so I guess that they are phantoms
Who appear and then soon dissipate
Into the close cloud distance
And the kettle-drum wash and roar.

Are they angels from the past?
And if we met
On this challenged coast
What would they say,
If I could ask,
That I might need know?
Would they tell me
How to part the fog
And where to look
And what to listen for,
Or would they simply remind me
That what there is here for me
Is mine alone to discover?
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