Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

By the Ocean

where the ocean’s affection
is with the winds, you tiptoe,
shoes in hand, at water’s edge
on glittering sand stretching out
for miles, and you relish
the waves’ gift to your toes,
akin to white-winged lions
of foam sailing from Atlantis
or your botched up past
with failed dreams,
still, the memory is sweet

where the sea breaks at shore line
as far as eyes can reach
and time turns liquid
in translucent blues
to define indistinct edifices,
where you played catch
among periwinkles and whelks,
now you feel abruptly aware
of mythical days when
you clipped your own wings
with random apathy,
no matter that you wanted more
but was scared to say.

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Prompt: an outdoor setting, anywhere in the open