At The Ocean...

This impatient water
knows a thing
or two
my six year old knows.

It cannot sit still,
in a constant tug
between new days
and the source of night's pale light

and more impatient still.

All the whispers
and suggestions of direction
blown over it

of little immediate change
but of the small and steady effect
that over time
and distance build waves of measure.

Forcefully,
once in course
following suggestions
raging against the cliffs
and beaches

making sand
of rock and shell alike

it leaps
forward,
then two steps backward,
then forward,
then back,
and over,
and over,

and over.

This has been
for millions of years
and lives

the way.

Parents and cliffs
resist the repetition
having already stood their ground
and crumbled

the young full
of energy and the life lost
we all had once.

But each must
be what they are.

Must stand or
rush forward and fall
and regroup
and rush forward
and fall
and stand back up.

All carving
our own
new way
old way
our own
own new shore
smashing to bits
while building something new

destruction
creation
and re-creation

one of growing smaller
and the other larger
but all the more a beautiful to see

like the cliffs I fade
as my daughter grows
but the very cliff was also once a beach
before being consumed
and built tighter and raised into what it is now.

She will also one day stand here
or somewhere with the same view
and watch the handing off,

but for now it is my time
and her smile
makes it all fit.