No Thought of the Owner

The ocean shrugs off
the broken boards of a boat.

They collect
on the rocky shore.

There is a telephone book
and a bottle of bubbly.

Over there an open guitar case
empty of all music.

And me. I did not wash up
but walked down

through the cedars
to listen to the surf

to the advance and retreat
of water through the rocks.

And because it is there
to hear how that sound differs today

with the scattered boards
and other items as they wash ashore.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

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