summer shore |
these children |
that play in the sand |
think this time is forever, |
their skin drenched |
in the drowsy heat |
of a sun swayed |
in the slow rushing roar |
of the surf. |
this close to the waves, |
the hot sand |
getting cooler and wet |
the deeper you dig, |
and squinting the distance |
the shore's glare's awash |
in the sparkling crests, |
embraced in the gleam of a sky. |
there's still words |
to be written in sand, |
shells and sandcrabs to find, |
and no hurry, |
the sun still bides time |
as the tide slowly folds |
morning's castle-row walls, |
flowing home. |
© Jon Bohrn (1999) |