Balance

 

 

When sea meets sand there comes a crashing noise,
A washing, brushing rumble as of rain
In circles, like some underwater train:
The movement of the world in equipoise.
Just so the edges of the sky sustain
A tinge of sunset while the rest grows dark,
While day loans night a luminescent spark,
These traces of the equipoise remain.
And when we walk together in the park,
Discoursing of the things we've said and done,
You count the better things off one by one,
Our sum of gladness soaring like the lark,

The world is bright with light and sound,
Our feet weigh lightly on the ground.


 

 

© Kevin Berland, 1999

 

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