-for Tasha, and for Caspian.

Between April and October

Last October, I walked out on the sandbar

with a black dog at my heels,

and I knew every rock and every tide pool

She used to pick up white rocks in the sand

and carry them home.

But that day she was slow, almost limping,

and I could feel winter coming in the air.

Now it's April,

and I'm walking out on the sand

with a black dog at my heels.

He's chasing the shadows of the gulls,

leaping wild in the rushing sweetness of spring,

and the air is promising me summer, soon,

but the sandbar is different this year.