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Post by AquarianM on May 24, 2011 5:33:17 GMT -5
In The Tumble...That soft wet place where water meets sand, The place where rocks and jagged glass are chipped and polished, Turned to grains of sand and pretty beach glass, Constant jumble of soft roar becomes a backdrop to everything. Life is lived always in the tumble, Ebb and flow and power you can hear and feel in your bones, Even if the sound is so pervasive as to fade from hearing, We become softened around the edges, Ground down to the tiniest bits, Scoured into pretty bits of tumbled wisdom. Sometimes the sun is clear and bright and hot in our skies, Other days cool metallic grey with clouds of chill, Marked by fantastic or forlorn sunrises and sets, Still the surf relentlessly jumbles us, Never stopping even for a moment. Be it lake or sea we all seem to be washed away, A false notion of those who can't see, For we're always here, The grains of sand underfoot, As each newborn walks with held-hand, Wide-eyed down the beach. AquarianM By: Daniel A. Stafford (C) 05/24/2011 Miller Beach, Indiana, Lake Michigan at sunset.
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Post by Ken Corbett on May 27, 2011 20:56:19 GMT -5
Weel done, Dan, nice rhythm and runs to a good conclusion.
Ken
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Post by AquarianM on May 28, 2011 1:31:12 GMT -5
Thank you, Ken. I wanted to point out how our existence still matters many years after we're gone. Hope things are good with you.
Dan
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