the driftwood was sun-bleached &
tangled in seaweed.
it looked like the jawbone of a giant
that a god more prominent
than we can ever fathom
threw upon the beach.
to be a child again
and have such whimsical thoughts once more.
to believe in giants
and gods.
and a God
‘i am a man,’ i think.
‘i am an adult,’ i think.
it’s not about giants hurling
jawbones upon an empty beach.
it’s about storms and tides,
saltwater and the sun.
i continue to stroll the barren shore.
it is autumn,
and the cold wind keeps
most people away.
i come upon a teepee-like structure.
it was hastily constructed,
obviously the work of kids;
tourists, no doubt,
here for the summer – here for a day
on the coast of Maine.
i place my rainjacket on the sandy ground
inside the structure
and crawl in.
‘here,’ i think,
‘this is where i will wait for those giants.
this is where i will wait for God.’