Poem: The Recreated

The Recreated

The shore at low tide.
Sand ripples in long lines reflect the currents
and steadiness of tides. All predictable
except of course, for the weather.

Today is calm. The ripples grace the sand
and something in you wants to follow
the lines of sand, to see where they lead,
even knowing, as you do,

they lead only to the next tide,
which will swallow them, destroy them
and begin again with its oceanic art.
A true symbol of life”

Beauty vanishing.
Beauty recreating itself
and you are both a bystander
and the recreated.

About this poem.

I have done a lot of re-creating myself to fit the world around me over the past few decades. Sometimes, everything feels as temporary as the seashore before the next time.

The picture was taken in Chatham, Mass, on Cape Cod.

Tom

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