Morning Walks On The Beach
M
Mark Heathcote
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Every morning on the beach
there was that chevron pattern
and a lone morbid gull screech.
gingerly we'd walk and churn-
Heels down deep into the soup
and blend seawater with the sand.
knock heels together and stoop,
watch it sink back like quicksand.
Look detached like a kestrel
about to fly on a whim,
cautiously take a nominal-
leap forwards, as if to swim.
Otherwise, parallel stride—
fearfully trek side by side.
faithful envious now edified.
by His goodness stupefied.
Bu şiiri puanla
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