
THE SANDMAN
The sandman looms
long and low in the westerly sun
on the evening shore
treading his beach
with dedicated feet
an image hunter
heir of Autolycus
searching
for Nature’s hidden ornaments
probing with his stick
revealing the sand crabs
tempting the tide to turn
and wash away his presence
leaving no imprint
only a fleeting glance
a captured instant
of memory
of another world
arcane and mystical
beneath the sand
before the glimpse
releases him
and he moves on
into the dying day.

Photo and sketch … WHB
Brilliant poem. The sketch is mindblowing! I admire your incredible talent, sir. 🙂
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You are too kind, Sam.
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