Beach-combing

Its all about an April
and a desolate sea shore.
An April littered with exoskeletons.
In the gleam of dusk the waters
turn monochrome; I pick up remains
of bivalves and mollusks in a calming breeze,

I have been the vacationer who followed footprints
of a former seedtime,

and in the summers in between
I have built and rebuilt sand dunes, castles, mermaids,
warships and cannons,

only to be leveled out by the waves.