Stand, still, let the foamy ripples of surf trickle over and around your toes; through your toes it goes. You suck in your breath, heart stops then starts. A grain of sand is moved, it’s fickle, it tickles; cold than warm, air combating the elements; sea and land moves, listens, hearing you say I do, I do! Caress me now with hunger; take me first, quench the thirst!
She backs away, onto dry land; grains of sand cling to wet salty feet; to keep, to remember, our September.