we raced from rushing olive waves toes crabbed
and cold-pinkened in salt-stiff sand
come on it will be fun the boy and his father
are out back he is shouting angrily
demanding the ball
each pass erased evidence of previous visitors
so that looking out to sea we could imagine
we were the only ones ever to have tested its edge
why do we venture so far from the roiling
source and solace
why do we persist in believing it will someday
welcome us home
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: US BLM
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