Lying on the beach, eyes
closed;
enjoying the heat of the sun,
a soft wind, the roar of the
waves.
An old man ambles up.
Wagging his finger, he says,
‘You’re responsible for this
– the sun, the sky,
the sea, the beach have all
come out of you’.
I nod and tell him they’re
probably
looking for him back at the
nursing home.
He wanders off down the
beach.
I roll over to get some sun
on my back
and wake up in my bed in the
middle of the night.
O child of God, when you
become certain
of just one thing, you will
know it all.
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