Carol Raisfeld

Cycles

Out of bed, out the back gate, over the little bridge to the beach. Sky, pale pink; Water, flat silver, the sun just below the horizon.

How can the beach be empty at this hour? Does no one else know the beauty of it? Passing another early riser, I exchange a nod. To say good morning would break the mood and interrupt the ebb and flow. The steady tide rolls in, rolls out. I walk for miles.

in a blink
the cycle of all things
this ebb and flow
the sun rises and sets
a moon pushes and pulls

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About the Author

Carol Raisfeld lives in Atlantic Beach, New York. The winner of international awards and an anthologized poet, her art and photography appear worldwide in print and online journals.