12 Dec

Winter, Torrey Pines              (new)

Two old men slowly walk
Bent over
Inspecting rocks and bits of shells
For something–
Dinosaur bones, maybe,
Or shards of colored glass
From unlit areas of the ocean
Or maybe just perfect shapes of something
So when they grip
Them tightly in their hands
The shapes will leave an indentation on their palms
That will remind them
Of why they exist.

Out in the water
A surfer sits on his board
Waiting for a wave to come–
A wave started in the depths of the ocean
Pushed by the moon and the wind
Toward him and toward the shore.
His eyes stay always on the horizon.

We are all searching for something:
      Reasons to move
      Or reasons to stay.
      Bits of shiny glass.
      Maybe God.

An older couple
Stops to chat,
Inspect what the old men have found–
Little treasures in waterproof pouches.
Nothing, yet, to fit their palms.

The surfer finds a wave
To bring him nearer to shore,
Paddles the rest of the way.
He sits awkwardly on the sand
And stares back toward the water.

We are all searching for something:
      Old men,

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Posted by on December 12, 2013 in new poetry


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