Aghast

 We search the far horizon from the safety of our shore

The incoming tide furtively trickling in between our toes. 

The icy water recedes, then comes again

With perilous momentum lapping by stealth

Until it casts aside the fragile markers

                                  of our ordinary lives.

 

Fists clenched, we hold fast.

 

Not tides but numbers mark the hours

And all the while the endless weeks …

Then months of isolated days

Fall through our fingertips

                                 onto the shifting sands.