The clouds hang low o’er shifting sand
that finds the will within the feel
to move from here to there
but sand is such it seems to be
content to shuffle slowly so
that progress ne’er is seen.
What difference grains of more or less;
it looks the same and no one tests
the depths of sand’s intense desire
to change what was to what must be.
I sometimes think I might bow down
to sand’s so quiet steadfastness
but then I think I might hurl rocks
and dance the jig of one enraged.
But sand is sand intractable
so best I just walk over it
again, again, again,
on my way to the forevermore
with my basket of delectable’s
held safe beyond its reach.
Sand never moves or so it seems
till dust o’er lays the scene
and then we know beyond our sight
there’s movement, progress, growth,
towards a new and settled state!