morning run, stone harbor beach

my feet

make a rhythmic pat

on the wet sand

as i run

at the beach's foot

through the morning air.

a thick fog

hides where i'm going

and from where i've come,

and covers all evidence

of the seemingly

endless sea.

i run with the breath

of the groggy waves

that roll in

from the emotionless mist

and slide up the sand.

small communities of

dew and sea moss

covered rocks

come and pass.

the beach's

giant metal beasts

lumber by

on their own time,

emerging first from the fog

with steady glowing eyes

then disappearing

into the blanketed beach

behind me.

short-order gulls

chatter and gossip

over the morning tide

and as i interupt

their early morning routine

they comically march

ahead of me,

squawking between their

hurried gulps

of the ocean's

washed in buffet.

i stop for a moment,

lost somewhere amid the mist,

catching my breath

and any bit of sea

that i can muster.

i listen to the waves

and stare out over the water,

hoping to steal a glimpse

of the horizon

or rising sun.

looking back

to the direction

i've come from,

i notice my feet

have left prints

that still lay sunk

into the sand,

unerased by the waking sea

that continually stretches up the beach.

with my hands on my hips,

i watch another

large beast

rumble by.

then,

taking one last deep breath,

i wipe my brow

and follow my footsteps home.