the limping man across the beach
breaks spinning waves and midas touch
his string of fish and smell of speech
write volumes on his gentle crutch.
As the mornings end and coffee’s served
and the crowds of gentiles say so much
he let’s the sea remain conserved.
She calls him on the other side
says the bottom’s much deserved
his tears and flounder flow out wide
beyond the rocks he used to teach
listening to his youthful bride.