Choice is a sandcastle, temporarily
too heavy to budge.
She sits, wind-baked,
holding her lunch-laden belly,
longing for early leave.

“Come on!,” Adventure whips, hands on hips.
“Let’s live! How often do we get to the beach?
We only have minutes more.
Let’s walk. Let’s peer at rockpools, climb the cliffs, wet our hems, find everything there is.”

“Stop overthinking it!”
Efficiency crosses her arms and taps her toe.

Around them, thoughts crash like waves –
jagged, wordlessly audible,
each one familiar yet new.

How about Sufficiency?
She stretches across the sand,
ribs squeak against an ancient core.
Disagreement soars above her like an eagle.
She is not its prey.
From time-to-time, her eyes lick the melting horizon:
what’s for dinner?

Off centre, Overwhelm
presses her knuckles into her praying kneecaps.
Shhhh. Shhh. Just let us be, here with the sea.

Meanwhile, Freedom,
almost browning into the sand, stands at the flank.
She’ll give us all just a few moments more.
Will we work this out together?
Is it worth the wait?
Or do I have enough already to walk awhile,
alone? Why not slip out of sight,
just for now? But
will they be here for me when I return?


Response to Daily Prompt – Simple – and to the visual meditation on Eugene Boudin’s ‘Women on the Beach at Berck’, image courtesy of National Gallery of Art Washington.