Walking the Living Beach

             Past:
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. 

                  Present:
As if answered prayer
the sea turtle comes
cobwebbed 
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.

                  Future:
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

https://themoyaview.com/2023/01/19/walking-the-dead-beach/