The second of the three unsuccessful poems
I dig my toes in shifting grains of sand,
Eroded rock, disintegrated shell,
Let shingle drift away from palm of hand
To land in foaming lace of ocean’s swell.
By increments surrounded by the tide,
That ebbs and flows and rises to my thigh,
I am enchanted by the gulls that ride
The breakers, skim and punctuate the sky.
Waves chop and crash, crescendo, counterfeit
Percussion of the ocean’s symphony,
Accompaniment to seagulls’ shrill complaint,
Watery, windswept echoes of the sea.
I move my toes, release them from the shore,
Still bound by sounds, allow my heart to soar.
© Kim M. Russell, 2015