Produced by Dennis Camire

This week’s poem is by David McCann of Higgin’s Beach.

 

Sand

By David McCann

 

above the river,

dry, white, bits

of eelgrass, barks

under the feet like a seal;

 

to be distinguished from the beach

sand in all discernible ways the same

without the bark.

 

Wet expanse of tide’s reach

smooth, here dull, there

a film of water

reflecting beach-goers, birds, rocks.

 

Runnels, beach draining

into the waves,

stand and they wear away beneath the feet

in the down rushing.

 

A different substance, coarse,

flecked with bits of shell, stone,

or wet, like the dough the feet tread three inches

deep at each step and stop

 

has a salt marsh smell

by the river, of marsh mollusk gull,

 

where a crab shell turns

over and over in the current.

 

Dennis Camire can be reached at [email protected]


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