shore

From our spot on the grass

I can see our children,

barefoot on the sand below,

where the lake meets the beach.

The warm air whispers

so I fall silent, as if listening

for holy secrets.

We played catch in the

late afternoon,

laughing, making friends again

with a son and daughter.

Now they wade together,

ankle deep. I can see them

speaking kindly to one another.

And I imagine these small waves

are an ocean’s.

shore

by troy cady