Harvest Moon Beach (September 2014)
I didn’t see the Harvest Moon last night;
the sky was clouded, closed.
But on today’s afternoon
my feet touch virgin sand.
My beach has changed.
According to the dictate of the moon
the sea has taken herself back
unveiling unknown sandy planes,
and rocks and seaweed covered islets.
The dunes as far as never.
I marvel at the delectable offerings
laid open to be found by longish beaks:
the mud spotted with greybrown casts of sandworms
and keyhole hides of razorclams.
And here a small pale rose cowrie shell.
And as I walk along the line
where sand and water meet
a migrant whimbrel calls
and then alights.
No sound more lonesome.
I look towards the Harris hills
at many shades of green and blue
while mainland mountains vanish
into a daze of greyish azure.
A beauty almost painful.