Rialto Beach

Rialto Beach.  Sept 2013

The Man-cub runs down to the waves
With whoops and arms outstretched
He prances like a horse, ecstatic
Stops in awe
To watch the thundering weight of tide
And froth of foam

Wondrous beauty:

Rocky beach:  Rocks, pebbles, sand, millions of years.  Surf.
Tree bones silver, front line of the green behind
Silver on silver water making green
Flashing sun making every blue, green, yellow

Pelicans glide in perfect oddity
Ancient souls sliding just above the sensuous water
Tipping casually over waves and banking back up
Running the sequence again
Whirling and arrowing down into the magic waves

Surging water aprons up the sand and over my bare feet
Soothing and washing and rinsing back to sea

At first I am exhausted
But my strength builds with each plodding step
I am as strong as stone
As rhythmic as water in her holy mass
Stalwart and exquisite as wood sanded by tides
A small "selah" to the improvisation of the ages
Etching my brevity on the eternal shore.