In the race to rejuvenating water
we must cross a finish line of eroding life.

The final stretch
funnels our bare legs,
sliding through
beach pea vine snares,
Pitcher’s thistle pokes,
and blackened sand cherry roots,
immortally gripping grains.

Signs sought,
scanning far from shore,
scream silently underfoot.

Divinations descend
amid children’s laughter,
lovers looks,
and lazy-day loungers.

A fish spine dries in searing sun.
Sunbathers oil their skin.

Children weave through beach grass blades.
Sand sifts through bones.

Wave-kneading grit grates flesh from ribs.
Bibliophiles flip pages to endings.

Swimmers slice through waves.
Fluid fingers scratch at osseus structures to assemble.

Lover’s hearts beat faster.
Feelings flee as endoskeletons sink.

Cursory footprints
autograph the endpoint collage
of ancient sediment,
flung feathers,
hollow shells,
and stone-buffed boughs.

Barbaric challenges and beauty blend there:
an ironic illusion.

We race to find
what we fail to see.

 

Tracy Ahrens lives just south of Chicago, Illinois and has been a journalist/writer for over 30 years. She has published 10 books, including two non-fiction works, five children’s books and three books of poetry. As of 2026 she had earned over 130 writing awards. See her website at www.tracyahrens.weebly.com.