At the Beach

A rock might not fall to the ground.
With a splash it joins the waves.
My arm is tired from the throwing.

I startle a bird who cries in surprise.
It flies away and out to sea.

The pebbles on the ground have become a pile.
My experiment is over and I begin the cleanup.

I’ve tried to get rocks from the sea.
They are deep and I cannot reach them.

I’ve been able to analyze my results now.
I see that a day at the beach is a lot of work.
I also found that the night follows a beautiful sunset.

W. Wayne B.

© 2012 W. Wayne B.

About William Wayne Smith

I'm a poet, library fan and maker.
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