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The Water's Edge
Wet salt sand, water’s edge
Rushing sound of surf and rolling sea.
As if each wave were a deep deep breath
And the surt but a gentle exhalation
The breeze light over the ocean arriving from who knows where
With messages of calm.
The sun playing games with the fragile whisps of clouds
Hide and seek, catch me if you can games
And the smells and the scents and fragrances
Telling of the world beyond and along and backing onto that shore line.
Messages not in a bottle but of the world
The world of the gentle and the strong
Of the motionless and the moving
Where a simple line marks out clear
What is far and what is near.
Gazing out to sea
Just me
And the shore
And the water’s edge
And the sun
And the breeze
And the swirl of senses
That chase clouds and roll and rush and whisper
At that wet salt sand water’s edge
This all comes to me.
poem
by
David Keig
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