morning on the sand

Swept clean,
the breakers sighing and three
angry gulls foraging for fish scraps.
Broken shells and washed-up seaweed.

How can it be so heartbreakingly lonely and beautiful all at once?

Nothing like an empty beach
to make you turn over your fears
come back to yourself
and begin again.

Crunching on stones
feet clattering a message
you return to your life
fresher, clearer
and centered once again.

Your worries tossed to the gulls.
Let them fight and scrap over it.

still there

Smaller,
but still there.

Appointment first thing next week.

And like a whiff of forgotten cologne, she remembers

his sweet baby smell
and how

he

was

the best thing

she ever did.

The stone in her heart is heavy.