Sand: An Ode in Prose and Poetry

Love Like Sand (prose)Here’s the thing about Love. She lives in the crevices of your life where a person usually finds sand. She is sand. She levels him and makes him look whole, but when a person looks closely at him—deep down into his eyes they find tiny grains of her—not him. Sure, he’s there, but the part that is him is white lined paper—it is the brown paper bag. The tiny shards of her are what shines and catch attention.

If you were reading a magazine you would just fly through until you caught a glimpse of handwritten words and scribbles and more words scrawled sideways across the unoccupied expanse of a page that was intended to give the eyes a break from too many words and offer beauty through its simplicity. Instead she is there. She can’t help but fill simple spaces. She is sand. She spills down the page. She is not supposed to be there. But, she is and you cannot look away. You cannot turn the page.

Sand, Sun, Sky (poem)

Sun lays long across sand.

Seagulls soar—seek refuse, find it.

Dinner, dessert, bedtime, playtime—

all one big sandy dance.

Shivering, splashing, smiling until dimples can’t help themselves.

Everything dissolves

in waves

in warmth.

Voices, gulls echo, mingle, sing.

Not a shod foot in sight.

Just skin and freckles—colorful umbrellas,but—it’s not raining.

Not a cloud in the sky,

just whispers of white smeared into blue

fading, faintly falling

from the end of the Earth

on through to

the other side.