By: Revan Peterson
View all Revan Peterson's works
Sea grass,
Swayed by the breeze,
conducted by the tide,
Waves,
Strong enough to destroy a city,
soft enough to heal a wound.
Stones,
Big little, rough, smooth
Washed up on the shore
Pretzels,
salty and moist
floating in the river,
I wonder what they taste like.