Beneath my feet the silent sand
betrays my presence on the shore.
My steps compress the burning grains
to hollow, high-arched spoor.
Soon the hungry sea will track me down
devouring my impress;
the huntsmen of the jealous moon,
will hide my last trespass.
On white-plumed steeds they ride
with relentless certainty;
erasing any careless trace I leave
of this intruder, me –
and there beneath the cobalt sky
reclaim her ancient land,
this unsullied, untouched, wave-washed,
pristine, silver-spangled sand.