Note to Self

What happened to choice,
Did you give it up with the bottle
You threw with that note into the sea?

Washed away in the frothy waves
As you walked away, grey water drying on your hands
With the sticky, titian sand stuck between your silly toes,

Following the cursory labours of life
Ignoring possibilities of seasons of change
Like the loggerhead sea turtle labouring her way back to the water dredging her path upon the beach,

Leaving her eggs buried beneath the sand
Near the dunes of waffling sea oats waving in the wind,
Her hopes for progeny’s future left
To the wings of fate:

A chance human child’s touch
While building castles in the sand,
Or a hungry sea gull making a meal
Of the day,
Or a raccoon smelling fresh spilt yolk mixed with mollusk shells drying in the Sun:

Is this the way you’ll dream and drift your little life away?

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, June, 2017 in the air, in a plane on the way to the University of Iowa Summer Writing Festival.


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