I don't remember where this thought came from, but in cleaning out things, I came across a notebook with bits and pieces of an unfinished poem, and I put it together into this now finished poem. I am including my ocean watercolor, started, but not finished, of Hatchet Cove in Maine, where our home we are renovating is located. For now we will be elsewhere. I will finish it when we get back.
The hungry mouths of waves begin
to gnash and gnaw, the sand pulled in;
Earth doesn't struggle with the tides
Though back and forth the grains collide.
They gurgle, rush in ocean's throat
As salty stew stirs them to float;
Away the grains are drawn to sink
To shift, to shape, to form new brink;
My settling heels record the debt
And we are left to marvel yet
How all the world is set in motion
Through faithful tides of famished ocean,
How edges of our world collapse,
Bits carried far away perhaps
To surface once again all cleansed,
A seascape through some other lens,
Sating still a mind and soul
With crumbs of shore the ocean stole.
by Donna JT Smith, 2019
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