The tide, coming in, pushes up neat clumps
of seaweed, glistening green, like the “grass”
dumped from an easter basket.
Waves roll in with a gentle power, pushing the
last line of sand-wetting water higher, higher,
up onto the beach.
The sandbar is well covered now. Sandcastles
once dug and packed, returning to original form.
My shadow grows longer and I’m forced to
retreat, and retreat again, giving up ground
to the encroaching waves.
The sound of the surf will be in my sleep tonight.
Poem by Marjorie Moorhead
Marjorie Moorhead writes from northern New England. Her work is influenced by landscape, season change, and her journey with survival. Marjorie is happy to have poems in many anthologies, several of which center on Climate Change. She is also happy to have two chapbooks, and poems in several literary sites. Marjorie participates in a community of writers both locally and through zoom. Much of her work can be accessed here: https://marjoriewritespoetry.wordpress.com/places-you-can-see-my-work/