Causeway

and      the water is warm for once

so      i lie beside

it      and trace the shape of how it

feels      to craft a causeway.

like      cockleshells and wet shale yielding under

new      boots, ripples press a path to

shores      beyond sight.

are      those stepping stones i see, rising

in      the stilling tide? my feet will not yet

reach.      but my fingers dabble.