27: Morning

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Sand-Memory
by Frederick R. McCreary

Softly the sea
With its handfuls of moonlight,
Taking them in to the beach dusk,
Sifting them over the dark sand
Slowly in wide curves.

Softly and slowly the sea
Scattering moon-bubbles—
Handfuls and armfuls
On dusk-darkened beaches
Over and over—
Telling stories of moon-spray
And night-dripping wings
Over and over and over.

And the sand says nothing;
The sand remembers
And crouches and waits.
It is old as the old sea,
And knows no peace
Till the width of the low tide.