the small ribbed shell
a scallop i think
sits in the sand
long abandoned by its
owner
the sand on many beaches
whitesoft under the foot
are nothing more than
the groundup remains
of uncounted shells
just like this
one
and how can we say
we are different or better
when we too are sand under foot
of some later
traveler
Tag: sand
number 7
the tide laps
at the concrete steps
washing over
opportunistic barnacles
and pebbles fixed
in cement in defiance of time
do the pebbles envy the freedom
of the sand
does the sand remember
its youth as a mountain
day at the beach (20170322)
we crawled from the sea
not to be better
but to escape
the insatiable maw
consume consume consume
its waves wail
all it ever wants
is to eat us alive
and turn us into shards
of coral
washing up
on dead shores
Words and Feathers 