Sand, sand, abound.
In the desolate wilderness or embracing the coastline.
A cloak of the smooth shade of the sun
shifting like scorching gemstones
scalding unprotected soles
until we've transformed into dromedaries gathering seashells,
imprinting our footprints in the sand.
Entangled sandpipers perform
their delightful melody negotiating the day
moisture serving up amusements
like prowling cougars
we hunt for enjoyment
constructing fortresses and realms
emptying the soothing basins
just like craftsmen
chasing the sun
running while embracing
digging and unearthing
burrowing akin to prairie dogs
shoveling the sandbox
burying the remains
gliding past summer and the ephemeral nature of time.
There is poesy in every grain
confined within the sifting hourglass
measured in rivers and mountains of sandstone.
And although eventually
all we comprehend will be effaced,