At Bruce's Beach

I.

Enough time in the strong surf
stirring sand and smooth stones
to polish off some of my
rough spots—
the push and pull of the water,
tireless, constant, much stronger
than me, than all of us here,
clinging to the edge of a continent.
Then, time to look far out,
over rippling water,
quiet in the distance,
and let its calm fill me.


II.

The ocean pushing back—
I don’t want you, then
reaching at my feet,
pulling me back in.


III.

I see vapor in the air,
the foam in the waves,
alive with moon energy,
and the slower, deeper
swells beyond the shore--
one element, many forms,
and I think--
I’m in you, you’re in me,
flowing, rising, moving with you,
with me.