I watched the sand get swept away
This morning
With Winter breathing heavy down my neck.
She heaves her chest in great sighs of frustration
Blows at the beaches
Chasing Summer's last errant children off.
If I listened, just a little
If I paid more than passing attention
I might hear her whispering anger and
She might sweep me off my feet, too.
I turn my back, keep walking East before
Winter brings the waves that crash,
And call me home.
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