I wrote this poem during the summer of 2002, while I was supervisor of boat rental operations for Gatineau Park. I spent an amazing summer on a lakefront beach, barefoot in the sand, getting fit hauling canoes and rescuing paddlers from the lake.
Sand
The curse of the winter lover
Sand everywhere
In your hair and in your crotch
Between your toes till it lays bare the skin
Sand
Dusty, gritty
Tired brown
For the same faceted crystals
Seek out a snowflake melted then refrozen
That snow that crunches beneath your snowshoes
Instead of those bits of rock
That grate beneath your desiccated feet.
While I am no longer a winter lover, now seeking out warmer climes, the bit about the feet holds! My feet are already rubbed raw from bad footwear, salt air, and sand. I’m making sure they’re just sore, not hurting, knowing that they will callus if I just endure this for a week or two, and that the pain will be worthwhile. 🙂
Tonight’s sunset on the beach, not retouched:
Beautiful sunset!
Mexico brings out The Bard. Here is my Los Moches poem from years ago:
http://croftsmexico.blogspot.com/2008/11/morning-in-los-moches.html
I reencountered your poem when I was researching the Pemex station. I love it!
My favourite bit is this:
“The rooster, exhausted, has done his duty.
He has dragged the Sun from her slumber.
And cast her into the Sky.”