Haibun Challenge…Thoughtful on the Shore

singapore shore

                  Digging for clams like digging for gold, thought the youngest child as she pushed into the soft sand.  Wetly slurping, the crushed rocks played a musical chorus as the children formed their own little world of toil and energy.  Isolated from the sadness of everyday life by this little strip of beach.  A place where families could gather and separate.  A place where moonlit walks were the norm, and more than one love had been professed beneath the tumbling stars.

                Another clam clinked into the bucket.  Soon there would be enough for dinner.  Mother waited under the palms, a fan in her hands and impatience in her heart.  But, not even her nervous humming could interrupt this daily ritual.  Shovels churned the sand into derision, and the siblings singular focus was unbroken by the tide.  The tide, which continued to roll in, and lick at their feet, with promises of watery hope….or watery death.  But, they knew of the tides, just as they understood the cycle of life and death.  After all, one does not live on the world’s shore without seeing more than just driftwood wash up on the bone white ground.  Sometimes fear is not enough, but hope is just right.

sand bleach memories

within time’s spiraling well

hope lives on the shore

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19 thoughts on “Haibun Challenge…Thoughtful on the Shore

  1. Wowow this is something new, more short story about the shore. I felt it like this: every grain of sand carry it story of memory or waiting for memory to be written of things that were found or lost, things that died or were born or reborn. One thing at this shore will never change is hope that is in each grain of the sand when you bury your toe’s in it when you listen the song of the ocean.

  2. I do like that. The story is very believable.

    *You can edit this and delete this bit if you wish. You have one grammatical error. wash up on the bone,white ground … there should be no comma there. With the comma it is saying that the sand is made of bone and white. Without it … wash up on the bone white ground … is saying the colour is bone white*

  3. I loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee this; it is so much of you and you bring in the opposing forces of life at every turn; wow…I get how words can make people slip into another zone of existence, as yours truly were the potent enabler of my slip-stream into another world. Need I say more? Talented one, you be! blessings ~ M

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