framed by grey rocks covered thinly by creeping green moss glowing early in the morning in emoluments carved random in time
the beach a riot of silvered sand
a young man’s feet assay the earth of his origin and wing his way across this universe more adroit than Hermes
then rests but not exhausted as the world has not yet done with his fate
the sun sets adjusting its beauty in every fraction of the rainbow then tumbles vanishing engulfed by the sea
then dusk is troubled by as many questions as the dawn
Flynnpoetry 