Love at the Beach

It's sunrise and low tide,
Pools abandoned by the sea's retreat
Reflect the earth and sky.

Magenta, orange, yellow, and white,
Remind us what we might have forgotten,
That light is full of color.

I cross through a graveyard,
The discarded buffet line,
Of unfortunate creatures,

Who either ventured too far or too close,
To the life giving/taking waters,
Of the sea.

I now walk underwater,
And suddenly I'm a stranger,
Ready to be baptized with the tide.

The wet sand is a plasma,
Smooth and flowing until chased,
When it becomes hard and immovable,

Which is important to remember,
When hunting for clams,
Or love.

Or so I'm told.