Able Appendages of Our Turtle Selves

2 07 2010

Resting on bobbing

sun bleached driftwood,

we follow currents.

Slicing the silence

with a finger,

you identify


to a brightly lit shore.

But to review yesterday’s path

and retrace your night walk

with fragile steps

provides no solace,

no answers.

Screeching sea gulls

beckon you to retreat

closer to the periwinkle dance

beneath the sand

till you return to your wake

in the waves without driftwood.




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