Mirror of the Sea

The tide is all the way out

and the sand underneath

feels packed and rippled

with roan speckles

spread along the smooth hide of an appaloosa,

carefully combed down with the pulling,

clawing fingers of the waves.

 

We are standing on a vast,

magnificent mirror,

a thin sheen of enchanted water

stretching wide into

one sky, one sea, seasky, skysea,

interrupted only by the slow grin,

open mouth of the gnawing, breaking waves.

 

Expanssssssse

broken by the first shift of the guard.

The mystery of tide change from

out to in again.

Who orchestrates this wizardry?

The flat window of glass cracked by

some new creeping.

A change of pattern, ripple, shiver

bubble, sparkle, slide.

Blessed light flickering,

mixed with youthful winds.

Perfect ridges now disrupted,

pulling into the four directions.

 

Two creatures

daringly hold their ground ahead of me,

testing their muster against the waves.

It is the most still I can remember them,

playing this game of feet

buried in wet sand.

Shrieks with every encroaching

chess move of the waves.

Legs slowly taken over, ankles, feet sinking,

reaching towards the center of the earth.

All until one wave is slightly underestimated,

balance disrupted.

Tetter.

Totter.

Splash.

Shocked by the humorless, cold water.

Angry hornet raging now

at wet pants, wet legs, wet ocean.

Moment gone,

placid lake goodbye.

 

And I wonder

why I want this more for them

then I want it for me?

To be gutted alive with the present.

Dripping blade, reminds me again and again:

This is all there is,

just like this.

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