Stepping on soft granules that shift unexpectedly –
there is an art to it.
To move atop the sandy mounds one must
tread lightly, swiftly conforming to the shapes
the sand has made.
Movements must be fragile
yet at once purposeful to move forward –
there is an art to it, walking in the sand.
I am humbled again and again by the softness
that accumulated shards and fragments of
ancient rock offer my tender skin,
am arrested by the ethereal beauty of
pieces of yesterdays that rose and fell
before my time.
And I am made to remember again and again
that moving in sand is a balancing act
of dislodgement and displacement
and reconfiguration,
each step a disruption of what has settled.
Yes, there is an art to walking in the sand.
there is an art to it.
To move atop the sandy mounds one must
tread lightly, swiftly conforming to the shapes
the sand has made.
Movements must be fragile
yet at once purposeful to move forward –
there is an art to it, walking in the sand.
I am humbled again and again by the softness
that accumulated shards and fragments of
ancient rock offer my tender skin,
am arrested by the ethereal beauty of
pieces of yesterdays that rose and fell
before my time.
And I am made to remember again and again
that moving in sand is a balancing act
of dislodgement and displacement
and reconfiguration,
each step a disruption of what has settled.
Yes, there is an art to walking in the sand.