Tomorrow I'll take a handful of summer
and warm my bones. I'll root down by the
ocean's edge , listen to salt water pouring
over sand. I'll walk until my legs tire.
I'll watch anonymous waves
leave calligraphy on wet sand. Tomorrow
I'll find sea glass, anemones, and seashells.
I'll wear a tiara of seaweeds and a cape
of beach grass. I'll talk to sand pipers.
I won't hurry.
Linda Watskin ©2010