Blue-gray sky seamed to blue-green ocean
Sand dolloped with foam
Purity of willets' wings.
Seaweed spells out a message in a language indecipherable--
words I think I once knew.
Blackest crow meets whitest dove
Shells cracked open, picked clean.
No sliver of beach glass
Only my own footprints--present meeting the past head on.
1 comment:
You even write poetry beautifully -- is there nothing that you can't do?
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