The Moya View

Walking the Living Beach

Image credi; Josef Kote
The sea foam
grants me gifts
of pink, blue, green:
a man-o-war,
a mermaid’s purse,
brine shrimp,
sea lettuce.

With each step,
I feel my feet
uncover and bury
the beach’s cycle,
the grit and sting
of warm sand
caressing my soles.

I wish to stay
to watch the
purple evening come,

long enough
to witness
the loggerhead turtle
bury its eggs
in the sand.

to sea the future
deposit itself
gently here
and then
wash away.

I’m too excited
in the joy
of this existence.
I slow my breathing
to match the waves.

As if answered prayer
the sea turtle comes
in green and gold.

The beach wind
whispers to her
their shared memories.

Their marriage is a long one,
lasting longer than the earth’s-sky’s.
They honeymooned in Eden
watching the first waves rise-fall.

I watch my boy play in the waves
unaware of the great labor behind.
Their caress on him is the same
as the first dance between the
sand and water of my childhood.

The crowd is coming,
casting its shadows on him.
I’m tempted to tell him
to move out of their way.

For now, at least,
I’m in no hurry
to have him
adjust his position
for anyone.

This poem has a companion mirror poem- Walking the Dead Beach





One response to “Walking the Living Beach”

  1. caroline46 Avatar

    It’s a great story. One of your best

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