Evening at the Beach by Leah Hearne

 Evening at the Beach

 

The moon is looking well tonight, no longer deathly pale

But ready for the harvest months that are looming

At the edge of summer the way the dark blue sea

Looms around the electric and lamp-lit streaks

That are cascading from the second-hand sunlight

 

Paper marbling running through the sand, a mixture of

Foam and grain, of wax and wane, the sea reaching out

For the footprints on the coasts, filling them up like pools

The water warm, the night air cool, a gray-blue sky

An ominous storm that lurks yet never comes

 

The birth of baby chicks, a garden of peonies

Orange juice and milk, mixed into a glass

They all lie in the trench of the sky, like fog

Clouding the horizon as a blue, gray and purifying

Fills the dome, as though being poured over earth

 

Sky, water, land- a minimalist scene

It can be drawn with three curved lines

Evening at the beach, the origins of the world

Moon, sea, sand, orange, blue, white

Layers so distinguished you could cut them with a knife

 

Simple, simple- born with earth

Born as life rose from the depths, only a few small specks

Born with the currents, high tide and low

Born before time became linear

Yet somehow, born with an essence complex

 

And perplexed, that even after walking miles

Around the rim of the eastern coast, you still find

Something new to look at, something you haven’t seen

In the evening before, that makes you want to look

Over and over again