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  • Writer's pictureemitcheldoc

At the Edge of the World

Updated: Oct 12, 2022

The surface is so still birds float like rubber ducks in a bath.

Bobbing gently. Hundreds of them black and shiny

in the October sun. Stones glisten on the sand as water washes them,

over and over, rubbing them against the gritty floor.

A lobster cage sits half buried at the edge of the surf.

I thought it was a shopping cart as I walked toward it.

I imagine the end of the world.

Bits of shell, crab legs, snails, mussels and seaweed

shift in spaces alongside the rocks that forever hold my gaze.

I am mesmerized by their endless shapes, colors and patterns.

People drift past me, their eyes to the ground. We are all searching

for something.

Last week I found a pink stone, a piece of green sea glass, and a scallop shell.

Today I push my feet into the warm sand, still happily barefooted,

content with sitting, listening to the music of the waves and watching

as the world shifts and slides in and out.

I am lulled into this moment of peace, pausing my endless search

for something to hold onto in this giant ocean of life.

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