sitting comfortable on an incline
at an inlet of the oceans edge
where I could watch and whittle
dipping my toes into the brine
that was warm enough to bathe
but I just dabbled in it's ripple
I scrutinized the river stone
one by one as each lined up
in a shallow bed of silty sand
there a tiny creature stood alone
bearing on it's tail a watery home
as it sidled closely to the land
the shavings from the driftwood
that were used to whittle forms
seen bouncing gentle on the tide
as floating casualties of boyhood
and reminders of a penknife
used to carve the wood outside
John R Tarter
J