At low tide I walk the sandbar
Far out to sea
Out to islands
Of gulls and cormorants
Leaving distant dots of people on shore.
Terns dart and swoop
Sandpipers race the tide
The sea breathes
Each wave exhales into the next.
Immersed in whispers of whitecaps
The clamor of the world recedes.
I want to go on with this nepenthe
Rinse my life of self
Go to the white sail
Plump on the horizon
Skimming to a far shore.
But the tide rises
Water deepens around me
Distant ones on the beach beckon me back.
©2019 by Eileen Curran-Kondrad
Eileen Curran-Kondrad is adjunct faculty in the English department of Plymouth State University. Her poem “Coyotes” was a 2018 Solstice Series Selection here at Folded Word. Her work has also been published in Red Eft Review and Centripetal.