I watch a little crab a'crawling
Along the briny sand of an abandoned beach
His footprints are so fragile and quite fleeting
Obliterated soon by wind and rising tide
I look down at my feet and hands now idle
While in my mind a thousand thoughts create
Word castles of great import and quite worthy
Not ready yet to be set down or seen
And then I ponder tracks of that small creature
Whose purpose is much smaller than is mine
Yet he is busy living his intention
By making marks to celebrate his day
A crashing wave now washes out the traces
Of trails and scratches made by seaside life
I jump up to avoid its drenching
Run quickly home to pen a line or two
I'd rather write a mediocre poem
Than leave that perfect epic in that cave
Of hallowed thoughts and concepts undeveloped
Because the work is not yet flawless or precise
I'd rather scribble transitory ditties
A gentle verse recorded on the wing
Of unremembered dragonflies in breezes
Of little consequence or import to the world
I'd rather chronicle a cipher with no cadence
Recording textures of a gritty sea oats stalk
Instead of planning mighty contemplations
Not to be penned till all the t's are crossed
For when I finally roll up my parchment
And fold my hands to form a final prayer
I'll be assured my pale imperfect musings
Have left a path of scribbles on the sand
I watch a little crab a crawling
Along the briny sand of a forgotten beach
His footprints are so fragile and quite fleeting
Obliterated soon by wind and rising tide.
Liilia Talts Morrison
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scribbles-on-the-sand/
