Step lightly on this coastal strip, and watch
for the sucking, shifting salt-and-pepper sand.
Watch, too, for the rising, curling breaker,
the cliff’s overburden, twitching in space on a rusting wire.
This beach reaches in a frown for a town’s light
and its majesty is its plainness and its wheeling birds.
It was here, dug deep in grey driftwood, I etched
a name: a declaration by the licking water, and
where the salted grass hangs low.
I fancy now it’s gone;
set free by circumstance and time