Passage

Gliding like a tiny shadow before the tide, little more than a bit of wind-shifted sand, I search the place where sand and water become sky. The waves quickly erase my tracks and leave the beach empty of any memory of my passage. Days pass this way, the ebb and flow of life and memory, of abundance and heartache. With a note from high overhead I depart toward the southern stars in search of some other land and leave this piece of shoreline in the solitude of a late summer evening.