Saturday, March 7, 2009

going within, but for what purpose?

This is the white sand that kisses
the smallest swell of
wave that pushed it
away and back.

There is the Pitcher that thistles
the azure eye of
sky that sees
it all and loves.

That is the cry that
begs of need, insistent.
Gulls are such urgent reminders,
the world is waiting.