Ours were not the days
of maverick fame of riding
off-point waves threading
needles of jagged
outcroppings
and treacherous tides
no emerald velvet linked
our roads to shore
or barred our wanderings
Those things came later
long after
we were blinded by a wealth
of silver coins
of light glinting
as far as our eyes
could see the murky
dazzle of ever-restless water
and sheets
of dun-colored sand bleached
and glaring beneath
an infrequent sun
Our years slid into the blue
sinking ceding as they will
to forceful waves
of change
and yet the land’s end
on which we stood
wondering
at the breathing sea was
firm footing still perhaps inviting
those willing to
look up
to see the living treasure spilling
rushing at their frozen feet
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Franco Folini (CC BY-SA 2.0)
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