each day I look

same rocks, no, slightly changed
slightly less

here, taste

same fish down inside,
no, not even close

seaweed littered like a sailor
washed ashore, fingering

something round,
a circumference

in the sand, horizon’s well

no feet will say, where
they haven’t been

here, here I keep my
life, a tide between my toes

I am drawn and sketched

toward this home
 
 
look for me