Post by David Nelson Bradsher on Jun 29, 2009 13:28:06 GMT -5
Diminishing Returns
The beach is wide now. Lots of sand remains
before high tide arrives at Emerald Isle.
I’ll walk for distance— yet another mile
until my time reduces with the grains.
Plenty of room, I think, to venture on,
to reach the point again, where sea meets sound,
and find, once more, the space to move around
until my time, and light, has come and gone.
But best laid plans will often fall apart
when nature chooses to reverse its trends.
In bringing late attempts to early ends,
it gets what one might call an early start.
On my return, the point is gone. I’m caught
before my time. It’s later than I thought.
The beach is wide now. Lots of sand remains
before high tide arrives at Emerald Isle.
I’ll walk for distance— yet another mile
until my time reduces with the grains.
Plenty of room, I think, to venture on,
to reach the point again, where sea meets sound,
and find, once more, the space to move around
until my time, and light, has come and gone.
But best laid plans will often fall apart
when nature chooses to reverse its trends.
In bringing late attempts to early ends,
it gets what one might call an early start.
On my return, the point is gone. I’m caught
before my time. It’s later than I thought.
