Pilgrimage

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Standing at the edge

waves lap at my toes cold

and foamy, pull sand gently

from underneath and

something else tickling

Tiny lives, I can tell before

I see them, are clambering

for shelter—I step back and

crouch down in wonder

at wriggling multitudes

Leaving behind for a moment

the dissolution of my own world

I scoop a handful of sand and let it

trickle away, revealing a delicate gray

egg-shape, scrabbling feathery limbs

I marvel at the tenacity of being

the stunning beauty of our

deliquescence; sand shifting

I return the creature, caressed

by the waves as it burrows home

Clelia Vahni Lewis

©2022