Sand Castle

Each day, a walk to a beach
Down dunes, over logs
I tarry for a time;
I watch for the winking of the water
Then it is time to begin
Work, there is much work to be done.

On the knees, hands dig deep
And the birds, they fly high
By noon many spires, turrets, towers
There are walls, parapets, and a moat
Many flags, roofs, and stained sea glass
And dragons, there’s so many dragons
By late or soon is nothing more
As tides take in their turning
I recede to sleep or whatever might be.

Each day is a day of its own:
Ups, arounds, and myriad downtowns
Till it is time, it is time, it is time
I set to my knees laying latitude
And my spires, turrets, towers
Set sail with the driftwood captain
To the long sleep I carry on
Or whatever might be.

Until again by cadence
I rise as spires, turrets, towers
And sea glass eye
Of another.

Fog Today

Fog blankets the land
As it blankets the man.

Gentle in its closeness, and
Rich in its moisture:
Massaging my lungs—
Infusing from inside to out.

Not the dank swamp fog,
The sweet river fog, delicate lake lace.

Oppression of its weight
Deflates oppression of
My needling needle, that
Is ever needing kind respite.

Makes my walk
A walk through