walden

when i started to forget, you showed me
pushed my hands into the sand and
buried me
feel that you said this is the end of summer
and you were right
because the sand was cold and sharp
and stung pleasingly, like rain
the kind that comes to wash leaves down into the gutters
of houses and wipe the streets clear of summer sands
and hopscotched chalkly afternoons
that children brought home from the beach and left
on the pavement

the wind picked up in white gusts and set the gray water whistling
made the willows bend back in surprise
at how quickly cold had come

but you stood to face it
you shrugged off your cloths and i watched
you run into the water