Ruminations: By The Water’s Edge

Photograph by Kathleen Sara Shattuck

  

Time, time is everything.  Why think about time, why now? 

Time goes by, time stands still, time solves the problems of the world, and time is spent, used, and given.  Time is whole, halved, cut, and cherished.

Sitting by the water’s edge, surf just far enough away as to not wholly encompass me, just the tips of my toes is enough. 

Lapping against time, a crease and wrinkle are born; time takes its toll, and sun burned skin turns brown.  


Age takes time.  
Age anchors time.

Patience, stay patient I tell myself.  You’ll get there soon enough.

The tiny bubbles of foam slide across the hard packed sand, assuredly going out and coming back in, to soak another grain before I wiggle my toes, hiding beneath its wet surface.

  

Hide, I tell my toes, hide before you are exposed to the sunlit day.  Hide before you can be revealed; look out, I say, but the foamy suds breaks the surface of time.

The enemy, the foe, the friend, the lover, a consumer to those who wait, envelops the distance of time. 

Swirls seek, and find the time hidden beneath the water’s edge.