A Poem of the Seashore

A Poem of the Seashore For Lynn A poem of the seashore; would you write one for me of the shells and sliding sand? All I see is horizon releasing the moon from a European land. Behind in the east there's a whisper so slight from a place of seedling sun: "Why do you stand at the brink of night with dreams that may not come"? "Count on my light of daily routine, obvious, safe, in tune." I can't; I can't; there's more to be had from the place of the rising moon. I was born in the gloaming of ocean surf at the brink of my dreams at the edge of the earth. ©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins January 8, 2013