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Tracks

An out-of-season Monday, and the beach
as far as we can see is ours alone.
October sunshine burnishes the waves;
the wind flicks up their fringes as they break.
We’re at a time of life which comprehends
that days like this are precious things to hold
and not to use as inexhaustible.
The tracks we made when walking up the beach
it pleases us to notice, walking back.
The tide is rising. Briefly, they were us:
apart, together. Never out of touch.