No words

 
The coming dawn,        
a heavy drowse        
of fog and beach's loss        
of memories from yesterday        
where summer's laid        
its final pall        
o'er castles washed aground.        
       
And as each footprint        
leaves its mark        
and just as quickly fills,        
avert my eyes        
in time to see        
the undulating shoreline dunes,      
the chevron wings of gulls.        
       
I contemplate        
in shrouded light        
while I alone eclipse        
where sand crabs scuttle        
in the wake        
of early morning mist.        
       
And how my mind    
is set adrift        
like waves that crest ashore        
without the anchor        
of their roots        
when low tide pulls them in.        
       
I question is my living still
for reasons meant so much before,       
for answers I find        
have no words        
but feel as light as ocean air,       
like nourishment to me.        
       
What seems like hours        
are but moments        
when the call of gulls        
returns my thoughts to me,        
how quickly they pass overhead        
and scatter out to sea.