Too soon we leave.
Poet's Notes: As a child, summer vacation meant a trip to New England to visit relatives and always included at least one day at the beach riding waves and exploring mud flats or tide pools. And so began my love of the ocean, which probably led to my youthful years as a competitive swimmer and my master's degree in marine zoology. At some point, my family discovered the wide beaches and warm blissful waves along the Georgia coast, but my early memories all involve the skin-numbing waters of New England.
I rarely write long poems because I am always short on time, and long poems can lead to lengthy revisions - this poem was no exception. But these memories of magical days at Sandy Beach in Massachusetts are precious to me and would not fit in a minimalist form. (To be fair, the tide pools at Pemaquid Point in Maine are perhaps even more fascinating.)