How curious it is, to walk along beaches

Made of thousand-year old shells, and

Think about how young we in are in comparison.

Sand dollars and dried-up crab shells floating around

In piles of sharp granules.  We bend down

To grasp mussels and fragments of rainbow light.

A reservoir of life through passing year, and years

Long gone by. That footprint you made washed away to sea,

Rippled in time. The waves met with shoreline and crashed

With unmistakable briny consequence. Breathe in the

Salty air or the stench of warm, rotting seaweed,

And feel the cool ocean against our bare feet.

Let it all remain like this, let it be this peaceful for all of time.