Beast on the Beach | G. Louis Heath
That dim beast, heavy megrims on my
Shoulders, my conscience, I admit.
Nebulous, gritty entity, it grinds over
Sand into surf. I watch it bathe and feel
A brisk breeze tingle fingers through my
Hair. And my shoulders never felt lighter.
This is my personal ritual in my covenant
With humanity and nature. I give to the
Local food pantry for my day on the beach.