Calling on Calliope


Cattails cast winter shadows
on frozen sand,
Summer’s castles are gone now,
so too the crowds; tides
have long since taken all traces
of their time here.

What the surf couldn’t reach
was picked up by the wind.
This is God’s land
and though it is reshaped
with every storm,
I still claim a dune as mine.

With crackers and cheese,
a thermos of chocolate,
a yellow tablet
and some brand new BIC  pens,
a bargain at ten for a dollar,
I can last for a while on this isolated spot.

I hunker down in the wooly warmth
of a favorite blanket
as I sip the thick sweet chocolate.
Hieroglyphic prints fossilized by frost
fill the beach with poetry.
I beseech Calliope
to guide me in translation.

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