I reckon there are seldom shores
Where desert meets the sea,
Perhaps because wherever 'tis
A sandy kiss it be.
Perhaps because a roaring wave
Would rather slam a cliff,
Than roll atop a level plain,
Mulling and adrift.
I say this while ten miles from here
One finds the oceanfront
Abutted by a beach of rocks
Reduced to silt and dust.
O fie but why would water blue
Incur the yellow sand?
Maybe for the saltless ocean
Thinks itself too bland.
There is no lesson to this poem
Other than to say:
Mud is the child of Dirt and Water
And Mud is here to stay.
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