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York Beach
braiding
nhwaterspirit
A warm day in March
Walking the beach in Maine,
I remember bringing my mother here
The year before she died.

When I can't wait any longer
I take off my shoes and socks,
Stand right by the edge, and
Let the ocean cover my feet.
Colder than cold - and so good!
I stay a long time, watching
The waves rise and curl,
The crests drop and break.
Then the foam races forward
Fast, fast, slow, stopping just an inch
Beyond the last one.
My toes sink into wet grey sand.

Tide comes in; nothing can change it.
Tide goes out; we can't hold it back.
It's been four months since she's gone.
She liked the warmer beaches of Cape Cod,
I love this one, the Short Sands of York -
Sun, sky - freezing cold water!

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