Eraser

On a morning's stillness,
Hung between the seagull's cries,
The lick of water tongues on sand is soundless beauty
where the steaming, gleaming
sun sings symphonies
of molten music
on the rippled shore.


I try to guess the tide's intention as it
dallies with each sliding wave.
Some touch my boot and chuckle round my foot
but others shed their shining skin and drown
as unseen suction pulls them down.


My footprints linger for a little while,
Bronze castings in the morning light,
until a breath of tide glides far beyond
the limits of the strand
to claim new markers
on the glistening sand.

In silence all my signs erase.

I wish in all things to be one with you,
For all my marks to be remoulded by your waves,
For all my faults to be refashioned by your grace.


(c) A McN