Impersonal Perfection

The water scooted up

the brown sandy shore

and quickly retreated

into the Atlantic,

removing any trace

of the sandpiper's tracks.

Before the oncoming wave

reached the beach,

I quickly sprinted across

the smooth surface

of the sand

while the bird

took to the air

and landed

a short distance away.

Looking back,

the wave removed all signs

of my footprints,

as with the piper,

with impersonal perfection.

So down the beach

we ran for a spell,

this sandpiper and I,

it first,

then me chasing.

Between each passing wave

we made our mark

in the sand,

whether purposely or

carelessly,

that rapidly disappeared

by the watery eraser.

Tired of the chase,

the sandpiper finally

circled back   

to where we first met

on this isolated shore

to the graveyard

of the Atlantic.

And for a moment

we came and went,

this sandpiper and I.

Nobody spotted us

running along the beach

while he would let out a

piping-like cry,

"Twee-wee-wee,"

as I followed with laughter.

No matter what marks

I have etched in the sands

of this life,

I know that time,

like the waves,

will eventually remove

all signs of me with

impersonal perfection.

Neither the sandpiper nor I

was able to leave behind

any evidence that day

that we had ever been

down this sandy stretch.

But I know and

so does the Maker

of us both.

For me, this makes

all the difference

in a world of never-ending

came and went,

by the Designer of

impersonal perfection.