From the beaches at pondicherry

I know of many stratagems the initiated employ
to deal with shifting sand.

I dig my toes in
wiggling the sand out to make space
and feel the sand move past as it ebbs
gently abrading my ankles
and covering my feet.

I let my feet lie soft on the sand
with a film of water under my soles
and let it naughtily tickle my skin
while it squirms and tries
to throw me off balance

Then I see the water around my calves
and the foam clears slowly, bursting bubble
after bubble and it is so clear
that I can see the small white seashells
and grains of sand floating in it,
happy to stop where it lays them.

And then I know
that I may defy the sands
but I cannot in my heart
deny the waters.