Atlantic Beach

For Merrill’s prompt for dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday – Nature, lost and found

Atlantic Beach
“Maybe that’s enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom is realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.” Anthony Bourdain

The ocean waves go in and out with a soft shushing sound. It is just after sunrise and the tide is out. I walk along the strip of shells and seaweed left behind as the tide went out. I look down carefully, trying to spy the rare shell or sand dollar that floated in over the top of the detritus. Gulls wheel overhead and dive down occasionally catching a fish. Into my bucket it put a couple of Atlantic boats, some pencil shells, a rare whole scots bonnet, and a moon shell. On top of the pile, I gently place three sand dollars, whole. After half a mile I sit down to take a rest and drink from my water bottle. I am proud of it because it is a vacuum bottle, bright purple, and not plastic.

Watching the tide come in is exciting. The waves thunder in and the soon the water line is at the bottom of my feet. The line of shells and other items become caught in the waves and washed out to sea. I move farther up on the beach. The sand is golden and cool from the night and the sea oats wave in the breeze. I think about things sitting there. The sky is purest blue and the water deep green. I finally stand walk back the way I came. This is truly magic, this ocean. No one is around to disrupt the not-silence. No houses, no hotels, no piers. I stop and pour my shells back into the ocean. Who am I to keep these gifts that I am so unworthy of? Let them be gifted to one more worthy than I.
early morning –
gifts returned gratefully –
ocean accepts them

 

a piece of the ocean

a piece of the ocean
“I am the shore and the ocean, awaiting myself on both sides.” ― Dejan Stojanovic, The Shape

here is a piece of the ocean –
this bit of blue,
this bit of gold,
this bit of green.
I love you with the serene brutality
of the ocean –
but we are two different oceans
apart from each other
on different coasts –
loving eternally but never meeting
on the sands –
kissing and missing by inches.
always apart.
without the gulls the sky is empty.

 

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