.
i.
Earth circles,
spins like a spiral ham
in the salty debris of
regurgitated branches
when an angry ocean
smooths dreams after
gales settle.
Her power captivates
and I am small.
ii.
Lungs breathe low tide
reminiscent of running
shore lengths - naked
soles no more than
breathless outcasts from
rock pools, hard limpets,
and skittering shrimp.
Seasons of endless discovery
still momentum, yet eternity
learns our hearts.
iii.
Granules sift, turn small
ripples to hard ridges,
press into bare arches,
and molest tender heels.
Summer feet have not
yet arrived and it is
already August.
iv.
The glossy allure of
washed sand dulls
against broken shells
staggered amid harsh surf.
Nature humbles.
v.
Time delivers like a
typewriter's return bar
pushing fragments,
emphasizing ornery endings
as wrinkles carve themselves into
jest-filled smile-lines
bursting crow's feet
into sunset corners.
I learn.
vi.
How fragile life is -
realized in the bronze gloaming
hard-pressed against a purple sky.
Elements erode bones and
counter thinning blood.
vii.
Orange moon
whispers understanding
and ascends to silver sheen
against velvet sky while
moist eyes are grateful
for its light.
viii.
Keeping cuffs dry seems
a pointless idiosyncrasy
as scuffed toes more inclined
to city shoes, bleed
against barnacles.
ix.
It no longer matters
why I can hear the ocean
in an empty shell;
that I can
is simply
enough.
January 20,2019
© Pamela A. Lamppa,
All rights reserved
