Growing Up by the Beach

Growing Up by the Beach
by dan ankers


Gulls seesaw back and forth
in the sky

Their shadows flicker on the sand

I barely notice as I play with my plastic men

And pile shovelfuls of tan grains without care

As the water of the ocean, like a metronome

Rushes languidly, and still lazily recedes

I have all that I have ever needed to know or wanted here
with a bucket of these elements between my knees

The horizon is the furthest thing I recognize
It represents eternal things to me

My liquid vision harbors gentle thoughts
whose perfect flow contrasts the grains of sand

That spill off of my shovel, row by row
slipping from the plastic grip of man

Time in its varied contributions
to my young self represented, at the shore

The sand, the breeze, the pulsating contractions
my virgin little mind could not ignore