No Trespassing

Sand Grasses © 2013 Bo Mackison

Sand dunes.
Protected.
No trespassing.

A ragged, twisted, never-ending fence
lines the sandy beach. Trapped
between the Atlantic’s cold waves
and brittle fencing. This is shadow land
cross-hatched, undulating zigzags
etch the sun-baked sand.

Waves in cadence, rush and roar,
past the beyond, murmur in melancholy.

Driftwood weathers silver-gray, a rotting
crab snags in the jagged fork. A purple jellyfish
upside down, adheres to a protruding stone–
will it rehydrate in high tide or disintegrate
in the blistery sun?

Two women walk near the waves,
an elder protected by a red straw boater,
carnival striped blouse, her daughter’s arm.
She steps with deliberation, settling into each step.
Her eyes seek the horizon,
she knows the strength of the tide
swelling near her canvas shoes. The sea holds her gaze
until the daughter grips her elbow, guides her inland.

The waves tumble in, the winds rush through beach grasses
and trees, tangle our hair, blow sand in our eyes.
We swallow grit. Our arms protect
our faces as we hasten along the path in search of the car.

The distant air is effervescent,
like a gauzy veil, one cannot peer through.
It is future, always hidden.

————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She strolled the beaches of Long Island and recalled the lyrics of a favorite song . . . “the ocean is a desert with its life underground.”