Remembering The Shores

She stands barefoot in the sand, quiet and still, her back to the world, wind in her hair. The sun sinks in the distance, the thirsty sea drinks in its light, the land bathes in its warmth. The gulls cry out, dance through the air, swoop in delight. Ginger streaks color the sky, fading to purple and finally deep blue, as sun-kissed clouds blush with fervor, fighting the closure, the approach of the night. The water incandescent, stained by such change, radiate sublime color, give life to the sea. The waves of endless motion roll and crash, somersault and glide, mere whispers of power, of force beyond might. The white foam etches the shore, a timid approach, quick spreading webs concealing the dark glassy surface, but luminous depths. The moon breaks its eerie smile across the now emerald sky, the sea and the sky joined into one. The warmth on the sand withdraws far beneath, leaving the earth damp and chill. Footprints that once failed to imprint now leave their mark, paths through the dark, only to be erased by thin sheets of sea stretching to shore. Now deserted, quiet and calm, the ocean sings, the heartbeat of the earth heard ever clear in its steady rushing and sucking, the life of the deep brushing the land.