As I watch children comb the shore
and dance with waves along the sands,
I wonder who of us grasps more.

They wish to hold the world in hands
so small, so close, to see its face,
to meet one piece each understands,

but all forget the paths they trace,
pebble to star and pool to tide.
Up rush the cries of glee to race

and gather all things good beside.
They flit like licks of foam and laugh
in feathered peals that rise, subside.

So birds divide their lives in half:
quick rest and nest, then wing to blue.
This life in wind is winnowed chaff.

At last—one stops to take the view.
She quiets down to hear the roar
and sees the sea again, anew.

There, compassed deep within the core
of sweep of sky and salt, so vast and true,
a wondering ache, a need to soar.

When I watch children along the shore,
I wonder at when I wanted more.

01/08/2009

Posted on 01/09/2009
Copyright © 2024 Laurie Duncan