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,
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.
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.
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,
Shocked by the humorless, cold water.
Angry hornet raging now
at wet pants, wet legs, wet ocean.
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.