Lyn's October Post

Scraping a path

Remember how the surf’s roar

caught our words and tossed them away?

How we halted at the edge, discussion stalled?

 
Easier to stare out to sea,

gaze on wide water.

There was nothing more to say.


And just as we turned away we stumbled

on those turtles, dark leather babies,

legs whirring, scraping a path to the sea.

 
You stretched out a toe, nudged them

from their zig zag track. We watched them flounder,

bob in the surf, get flipped ashore, begin again.


Then the waves took them away.

 
© Lyn Browne