The Beach

There is an uncertain steady rhythm to the sound of ocean waves as they break along the shore.

The mysteries of the tides bring them close and draw them back, leaving remnants of treasures for those who seek them.

In the brilliant sunlight, the waters edge sparkles as it breaks across the sand.

In the moonlight, the sparkles become magnetic, a dance choreographed to that irregular pounding beat.

It doesn’t matter to the waves whether they glisten in the sun’s rays or moonbeams, or in any light at all.

They move as they are pulled, coming and going, reaching and receding, giving and taking away.

I live not high on the beach beyond the water's reach,

nor in the ocean's depth,

but in that place there at the edge that is constantly changing.

Sometimes beach. Sometimes ocean.

Standing witness as tremendous power and strength softens its greeting to meet the warmth of the sand,

I know them both.

There, in the irregular regularity where ocean meets land,

I walk with sinking footsteps,

leaving prints that will soon disappear.

But around me is the magic of the sparkles.

And the rhythmic accompaniment is in tune with who I am.