I love to walk the beach on cloudy days,
Alone in the grey morning.
I love the sound of ospreys
Calling counterpoint to waves
As they beat upon the jetties and the shore.
The harmony of wind through trees,
The whisper of beachgrass
Above the ferry boat bass,
the creak of rusty swing set chains,
And the gulls and pigeons
That children name.

The clink of seashells, rocks and glass,
Crunching sand,
Time beating past