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.'