Footfall

tide submerging a rock

I walk following shoe print and bird fork
as they press along together for a stretch,
as if their pressers met and shared
some brief common cause—
a conversation which trailed off,
the human plodding above
the edge of rough toss,
fowl returning to the surf.

A diminutive gull hobbles away
as I approach her,
a limp in the wisp of her foot.
How long can she last — the winter?

How long the melting winters?
How long this strip of beach—
receding dunes, thinning marsh grass
between reaching city and rising sea?

Earth beneath our lumbering feet?

©2018 by Jennie Meyer


Jennie Meyer, M.Div., has poetry published or forthcoming in Albatross, Anchor Magazine, Common Ground Review, Ascent Aspirations Magazine, and Patchwork Journal. Jennie lives in Gloucester, MA with her husband and three children.

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