Listen to the dry rustle
Of the wind driven grains of sand.
A billion tiny skitters
Making the surface of the ground
Look like light dark ripples
Moving toward my feet
The dry hiss of the water
With deep bass undertones
Dogs loping through the dunes
Birds hang gliding with the kites
Warm sand conforms to the shape of my body.
Leaning against the wall
The wind passes over me
To let me know it will leave me alone.

The horizon is one long burlap bag.
The velvet softness of the sand underneath my feet
Belies the uneven roughness.
A thin ribbon of liquid silver
Lines the seam of beach and sky.
The sun is a hazy nimbus directly above me.

The beach begins a patient rectification
Of intrusion.
Slowly, ever so slowly
Eradicating the telltale signs of visitation
From its surface.

The waves play a futile game of
Hungry Hungry Hippo.
Dark heads peek from the dunes
Like marbles waiting to be captured.