The Waves

The Waves

It's great to move.
I never tire of it.
And to rush up
and throw yourself
onto the coarse sand,
delightful.

And the slide back,
merging with my brothers,
that divine touch
I always feel.
That swirling and tumbling,
watching the air bubbles rise.
They tickle.

Then we gather
together again
to wash over
the sandcastles.
to pull the sand down,
tumbling each grain
a little more smooth.
They want to be round
like the Earth.
So we do
the best we can.

And we free our brothers
trapped in the moats.
I hate being there.
We rush back home,
laughing.

High tide,
low tide,
it doesn't matter.
There's always
something fun
to do.
When you're
not tied down.


"According to the waves"

According to the waves
sand castles are not allowed to stand.

They come rushing up
teasing
then falling back
whispering as they go
maybe next time.

And come back they do.
Sometimes near, sometimes far.
They gather strength
to strike again
but are undermined
by their brothers
rushing back to the sea.

Always  uphill,
the climb up the beach,
then the slide back,
tumbling rocks and broken shells.
But eventually
they make it all the way.
They pour over the walls,
overflow the moats,
and bring the sand castles
down, dragging them seaward,
smoothing rough human
edges away.

Sand castles,
according to the waves,
are not allowed
to stand.

So much better
to run uphill
and then slide home.

/ / /

"The Waves" was written in response to two prompts from We Write Poems: I hear voices and Revisionists unite. "According to the waves" is the poem I decided to revise, from last year's Poem-a-Day Challenge in April, but I was stuck on how to approach it. I still think it needs work, but decided to write a new poem from the perspective of the waves themselves.