The moon pulled the shoreline
into low tide, revealing the oceans
resistance in ripples of sand.
Treasures lay exposed or
half buried in wet sand.
Seagulls feed on trapped shells.
Pools of water hold small
fish soon to meet their end.
The strand,
dry with wild hair beach grass
looks down
from its headboard
to the receding waves.
An onshore breeze spreads
a heavenly aroma
of marsh and mud, signaling
loss until high tide
reclaims its place.
Roger Singer 