March 3, 2008
By Molly Snell-Larch, Rochester, NY

I smell the tang of sea brine as I dig my toes into the frigid sand.
The frost on the beach
marks the end of autumn,
as the sun-bleached driftwood
shifts on the crisp breeze.

I watch leaves fall from the trees,
drowning the world in bronze,
gold and crimson.

The wind, icy and ever present
has me turning up my collar
as it brings news from the mainland.
the girls giggles at boys antics;
the old men’s snores as they sleep off the morning’s fishing trip.

The oak sways in the wind,
reluctantly releasing the last of its foliage.
The birds feel the change in seasons too.
Off they go, their cries ringing in my ears,
following them south.

A raccoon saunters down the narrow beach,
picking up half-eaten peaches and bags of chips,
pitching them aside as he laments their lack of value.

I smile as I glance out to the ocean,
turning on my heel
to face inevitable change.

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