Tideline, Folly Beach, February 23rd

It is endless–the flat renourished beach,
the sand in the wind in the eye,
all the particulars of particulate matter
all that chafes and grounds our grace
erased in the flex of the tide–
when solid meets liquid liquid wins,
taking to task the straight line
and its granular banks, incremental gains
gone: this tells me not how to think
but how not to think, the edge uncertain
but certainly the edge