Sound and Sea

I remember the cold sand beneath my feet,

I remember grating my toes,

Gloves snug hugging my fingers,

Debating my view—

Sky, clouds, seas, sand,

The Footsteps that track in roes.

The pulse beneath my feet moved like breath,

This vast thing, this form, endless, alive.

I am torn—

Between the saxophone weaving stories in my ears,

The restless fists of waves battling the shore,

And aeroplanes carving the sky above.

A child’s song floating between them all:

This is familiar.