Toddler on the Beach
It's his muscular bottom that catches the eye,
powering stumpy legs as he assaults the sand,
high-stepping crab holes like a sailor
on shore leave. The sloshy tides
remind him of life as sea mammal
snorkeling the amnion: he has no dread
to head into that greater sac.
He would walk to the horizon if let,
water and sky wholly within his orbit.
He owns everything: pebble, shell, nodular
kelp, jazzy froth spraying from his palm.
His joy is the particular, the particle, he lives
entirely within his skin.
And so, when a gull hovers, slants, uprushes
behind, he knows he too can arch, flip,
sail off: a kite, a cloud -
gone, but still visible.