there but for the grace of god

you don’t need
the workaday world
to tell you a storm’s coming

from this south-facing beach
the sidewinder waves
are forecast enough

a pock-marked sand
spares little for grounded gull
or me, here and searching

the whites of brants and buffleheads
flash distress along the surf
or just fair warning…..I cannot tell

one soul, solo
floats the unseen current
too far out to save

this is no fit place to be alone
my prayer, my worry
whorled away

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