At the shore,
sandpipers picky-toe
along the sand,
then rise as a group,
flying off
when a loose dog
gets too near.
The song of the sea
swirls through my being,
like a lullaby,
a hymn,
a cry of freedom.
The waves roll out;
they roll in.
Forever
is happening
in this one moment.
for Karin's prompt at Real Toads: Finding a Moment
ohhh .... wow, you've totally brought me to the shore ... with "picky-toe' .... and the small details here, in this poem, literally rock me to the natural song ....
ReplyDeletegorgeous poem Sherry!
I know their feet, Sherry. But I had missed knowing a name for them. Picky-toe is to me very descriptive of those feet. Nice writing, fun reading. I'm glad you included the dog.
ReplyDelete..
My wife and I were avid birdwatchers years ago. Deserted beaches were good as were refuse tips and sewage ponds. I did say avid didn't I? Lovely poem Sherry.
ReplyDeleteAh lovely. Thank you. k.
ReplyDeleteA perfect single sweeping wave here, like a drop of gold from eternity. What else do we need?
ReplyDelete"Forever
ReplyDeleteis happening
in this one moment"
Gorgeous write, Sherry!