Ode to the Sand (day 1761)

And if I was caught running
Your wisp would rush my toes
Curling under and in between
To help my source be greater.
You’d call out loud
You’d stop me quick
You’d be my imprint, washed away,
Sea shells, sand dollars, soft glass broken.
And in your fleeting memory –
In my test upon your banks!
Forever cycle into rhythm,
Ebb and flow shall now begin.

sunny ocean day in the pnw near Tofino, BC, pacific ocean

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