When, at the end of the beach, I turned
to face that gleaming scimitar of strand,
the filigreed waves
hurdling landward,
ripple patterns beneath my feet ,
the scythe of oyster-catchers by the water,
their chevron markings perfect in that light,
I was euphoric in the magnificence of it all?
And as I walked, I felt the completeness of my belonging,
impermanence too like those scarves of sand blowing
ahead of the wind, and not at all sad for that;
recognizing suddenly that transience is the definitive
condition;
that the earth unmakes everything, and, in never-ending cycles,
brings it to shine at
the edge of the sea.
