Sand crawls and grows
and covers up
Wind comes and wraps up that sand,
run it up higher than a telephone pole.
Sand grows. It grows.
In dunes. On roads. White sand. Swept from everything.
Strangers sweeping sand away.
It just comes back.
Even in a jar. Crawls up. Fills what’s there.
Fourteen feet a year
Grows and crawls until maybe
no world left to see.
I suppose it’ll cover up everything