What it asks is the initiation
of your skin, your feet
given over to drift sand.

Look: ahead a long sandbar
has risen like an ancient whale,
head down, its flukes thrust into land.

If you want to know its graver self,
walk carefully its taut arch,
then take its lead.

Step off again.
In the shallows you'll find grains
of sand which flake like gold.

Be glad for motes. But go on,
go much darker, dive in.
The water wants only to involve you.

Don Welch