The Shore

(Photo Credit: David Brandy Photography)

There’s a shore
where she stands
just a woman
and Time.

Each grain
underfoot
outpaced
overhead
by stars
in their stead.

Still hoping
for more
she looks up
and not down,
praying
ashes to ashes
leave dust
but undone.

Time taps
his watch,
unauthoring
moments
that play
in the sand
racing breathlessly
onwards
towards a future
out of hand.

While gluttonous gulls
fly with clocks
snatching hours
and the ripe
fertile soil
fades slow
with the sky.

A metronome
ticking
the womb
and his tapping
crash melodies
unheard —
melodies
unhappening.

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