Beach Strolling Soles
As easterly light rises to refresh-renew,
Souls hand-hold-stroll the sands of time.
A stiff-brisk northeasterly beats-backs-brows.
Each step imprints a tenuous shore line
As surf-suds-whitewash ephemeral evidence,
Sandpipers dip their beaks near my toes.
Their hurry-scurry avoids waving seeping-surges
Osprey scan-soar the wave-churning below
Somehow know their heightened, timely-search-wait.
Both mesmerize-intrigue as seasoned-seek-speak
As windy-wakening opens this early morn,
Suddenly ahead I eye beached-debris
Dragged-drenched, water-logged, weathered-walker
A half-buried, sun-soaked, face-down sole.
It wet-whispers its mourn; lost on the waves of time.
This tawny-hided, toe-hold lays languid-limp
I reach down as if to resuscitate this soulless half
As if to lend-mend a helping hand or re-right its story
That youth I couldn't save would be a man today.
Other bleach-beaten, beach-becking soles appear
Light enough to float, heavy enough to stay.
Their owners, companions, makers nowhere to be seen.
No first, second mate beach-floating sanding beside.
Solo-voyaged all found their last footing here.
Weathering, windy waves their high-tied histories left behind
Untold soggy tales lost in the wake of days.
Nothing remains long, along the shores of time.
Yet their beach-bummed fate-stills single souls.
A flip-flop, shoe, slipper, sandal, sole
All once made contact-comfort for earthy walk,
All paired to trek together, yet all alone
Here matchless rights lay ashore left
Their walk-talk no more their wear-tear comfort.
Without the pair, they are barely there.
Now somewhere they wear their whereabouts.
Somehow sea-sand became their final rest
Odd how water floated either right or left ashore
Odd how they must have been lost at sea.
When they were once land-matched pair
Remind me of lost, sole-searching souls.
Their wear only as good as their whereabouts.
As I step forward, I still step back.
While ashore today gone tomorrow
When reminders re-assure,
they whet my wonderment.
Shored-shells their journey bottom-feed
Lost soles' voyaged-floated sanded-requiem
No mournful morn this, many more steps ahead
Before dawn's down-and-drown simple soles.