Sand
Sand feels exactly like sand
should.
It is granular and prickly.
And it sticks to your feet.
If it was just a little stronger,
it would stick,
perhaps,
a little longer.
But, it isn’t.
So, it doesn’t.
It does remind of progress.
Each step sinks in.
Each step rolls
and resists the next.
Each step reminds
of the need to lift self higher
to push on.
Sand must have a purpose.
Perhaps it is here to remind
even the simplest
things can be made hard.
I think about this,
a little.
Then I realize,
I can’t afford a single thing
on this beach.
I cannot possess,
with all time permanence,
a single thing I value here.