Turning Away from The Ocean
What exhilarates you on this strand of beach,
This little stripe into the sea? Why all the
Dancing, the kick-splits off the jetties,
Swirl-skirt lifts to the wind and sky?
Far out, a crate slips from the cargo net and
Drifts in splendid isolation. The loose thing
Bobs, out and out, at sea. And here,
Dark sand and clam beds haunt the knoll.
A blood-red house stands along the cove.
Eagles slip in the hot wind; the tide comes in
And floats your pockets. Let’s call this day
A chip of the mind. At the edge of something
Amidst the wants and terrible needs,
You dance on the strand, one piece at a time.