Wouldn’t bet it all on Friday
as Friday came and went
just another square on the calendar
just another face in the crowd
just another coin in the fountain
just another, just another
It goes on and on, the waves roll in
but the tide never really changes
just more broken shells left to find
walked this beach a thousand times
bet it all on Friday again
but nothing changed, what remains
inside these walls of sky again
a thousand miles
down the shore, I walked
before the gulls weary wings
and mine, we rested
by walking the sea’s remember
you once walked here, too
before broken shells
and words, winter’s bite
echoes of tidal times
moon phases, things
you can count on
you
disappeared
one set of footprints in sand
even the waves know
erase it all
quickly, so we don’t
look back, so stark
these clouds who used
to gather down, they look
away now, just me
a one way trip
I’ll go quietly
Little Bird Sea Shore
little bird
ocean shore
walking the edge
waves, skitter skitter
stop, beak the sand
in and out along
the tidal know
you stay you go
little bird I watch
you see
skitter skitter away
from me back and forth
sun to moon you
wait rolling waves
advance retreat
finally you fly
I
fly
with
you
when the sun was still early in the sky
and the waves broke easy near the shore
I waded past knee high white caps into the Atlantic
early summer smiled and so did I
floating through what the sea rolled my way
hours like minutes, until the clock faced sky
began to fill with cloudy hands
the water churned mixing salt and sand
the roll pulled me down the shore, but still I rode
swam harder to keep time with the sea
the sun sank lower, watching me
clouds spread darker, angering the sea
I grew smaller and more tired, floating out the waves
still I stayed in that day
where else would I be?
the tide began to rip and pull at me
drew me out further, where the surf broke high and loud
I dove beneath, let it swirl above
but it all came faster and faster
trying to keep up with the sea
my breath was short and salty
what I had left was low as the falling sun
watching as a breaker swept over me
tossed beneath its turbulent green
I washed up on shore, a piece of driftwood
next wave hit me square, spun me under
pulled me back, so I stayed at the edge and didn’t leave
sun still watching, still waiting, still listening
I was salt and sand and part of the sea
wave after wave weathering me
She used to face the wind, steady
strength worn in straight lines and
sound steps. But harsh nights
and bitter words weathered her
core, washed away resolve,
beat down seasoned worth,
pieces fall away, she lets
them go, it’s all broken
anyway, layers of fall
lean and snap of
her, cruel words
grab, she’s only
a fragment of
what she was,
the rest of
her is
gone
sand holds
last days of summer
taken by tides
carefree mornings
sandy days, low tide children,
shadows behind
she hears
the salt of time
through her eyes
Listen, hear, I am but a gull whose feathers
raise against offshore winds, but the sea,
the sea sent me with words for you.
I waited by the shore break, passed
many days, tides, and angry rain, for the sea
spoke, called forth the sun. As I rode
his rolling surf, he sung of his love for you,
the furious storms that frightened you away.
He knew you trembled in your sleep, dreamt
of being swept away under his dark waves.
He quieted, and waited for your sun to return.
“Gull,” he cried, “She will come back. Tell her
not to go. Look upon my gentle calm.”
And I was part of the sea, and believed.
You sat with the sea all that day, felt, heard,
listened his song of calm, until the clouds
pulled across the sun, though he fought them,
they were angry, and dark. The sea tried,
and tried to hold his calm but the dark
clouds and wind were joined, and the waves
swelled, and louder, crashed, higher and soon,
you were trembling again, and left. I was sorry.
And the sea still cries for you.
You show me a skull, tell me you scare people,
and you don’t believe in God.
I nod and listen, smile a little, and hold out my hand.
Come with me, let’s walk together. Take my hand –
It’s warm, you say – yours is, too, but I knew it would be.
Let’s walk the shore and you tell me why God can’t exist.
I promise to hear you, if you promise to stop with me,
close your eyes and listen to the way waves
feel as they gather toward shore, and break
their release to the sand in song. And see the shells,
and the driftwood, each one a different sea sailor. Listen;
they will tell you stories of voyages and places you could
never know. Breathe the salt air, know it like home,
like carefree summer days and moonlit nights, it holds you.
Now let the words go and watch as my sun floats to the waiting
sea, his arms outstretched to embrace her. Do you feel the yellow?
I watch you close your eyes, and I wrap my arms around you
as the shades of glow and sincerity wash through you. Quiet.
The sun has gone and sweet blue shines the sand. You turn
around silently to hug me. I feel it. Watching you drive away,
I see you smiling. There is love all around you.
God just followed you home.
He blew through bitter and dark,
battering her shores with cruel winds
that dragged her in a frenzied, swirling dance.
His wrathful waves assaulted her shore,
her protection, as he slammed his rage
against her, under somber, swirling skies.
She pleaded, tried to reason with him,
even sang a song, of the love between sand and sea,
but his relentless rage continued,
for she had taken up with the sun,
and he could not bear to see her golden sands.
To save herself, she bowed her head,
put up a fence to fend him off,
but he struck it down, “Let your sun
shine on a broken fence.”
Then, depleted from his fury and the change of tides,
the sea retreated, dragging as many
pieces of her with him as he could.
The sun shone on what remained.
I found your heart today, as I walked the shore.
The sun hung low in the early winter sky; it was waiting
for me, light cast through empty branches, subdued,
whispering to me to look among the sand and stones.
And I did, though I didn’t know why. I shuffled my feet
along golden shore, listening to the songs of shore birds,
as sun touched my neck tenderly, knowing what I would find.
I stumbled, felt a tear on my cheek, and, under my hand,
the coldest stone. I lifted it up and saw your heart.
Closing my eyes, I clasped it in my hand, but it did not warm,
and the sun left us alone on the sand. Having no use
for a heart of stone, I skipped it across the water,
a poignant mirror of sky.
just another day in Virginia Beach
Two feet in cool sand
Salt water and foam rush in
Sea drains around feet 
Talking to the Clouds 