At the beach is
An ocean of time.
Where to discover anew, leafy shapes
Clear against the blue of the sky.
Sun’s rays, glittering down
Diamonds upon the crests of waves.
The texture of tree trunks
Brush scored and stippled.
An ocean of time.
To realize that like a tree
Your roots be firmly planted in the soil.
Limbs are strong, so all they can carry
Leaves, flowers, buds, fruits.
Reach, reaching to the sky
To feel it—round, earth-embracing dome.
The curvature of the earth that holds the sea
And above, the moon that moves its tides
The ripples and ridges of the ocean
Tiny mountains and valleys that appear and disappear
Tracks of stones shipwrecked upon the sand
Pulsing with rich veins and colored patterns
The blinding whiteness of sea foam
Glowing eerie white against the black night
At the beach is
Is an ocean of time.
There, to weave new hopes, a future
That recharges and renews.
