I was sitting atop a picnic table in a sea of sand dunes overlooking the raging Atlantic on a cool, windy day in June of 99. We were camping at Frisco on Hatteras island.- maybe my favorite place in the whole world. The moment inspired one of my favorite poems I've ever written - maybe not my best but a favorite because it is raw and real and it takes me back every time I read it... back to a moment when the world was mine and life was good.
Hatteras
bordered by the churning blue flaring her frothing white
falling grains fly like hellbent snow... stinging devils
leave sandblasted shell structures accumulating tapered tails
yet gracefully in the distance they swirl like powder angels
lying down in between... moistened by foam fingers
gleaming golden singing shining praise from holes in cloud shadows
a chorus with the gulls and my thoughts of Hatteras
where we still feel small...
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