Sand

Tess Anderson

Sand has stuck between my toes

For as long as I remember.

The tire in our backyard,

The swimming pool in kindergarten,

Filled me with wonder

As they were filled with sand.

The silence of it is a wonder.

A cold July morning in Minnesota,

Walks to the dock to watch Papa swim,

As early as he can.

The beach, silent; a calm

Before the screaming children

Set upon it in the blazing noon.

The silence of it is a wonder.

Warm October nights

In front of Mick's fire.

Mornings at his cabin spent

Chasing minnows with Tia.

Squishy sand beheath our feet,

Warm and cold at the same time.

The silence of it is a wonder.