A Soul At Rest

I hear a soft whisper of sound
That repeats itself endlessly.
The wet sand is firm,
But my footprints soon disappear,
Fading into nothingness.
Down the shore, the sandpipers step quietly
Looking for food.
A wave comes in, frothy with white foam.
As it sneaks back into the ocean,
It leaves half buried bits of pearlized treasures.
A distant headland juts out into deep water,
Impossibly blue.
As a soft breeze drifts through the cypress trees,
My soul rests.

Arline 2004