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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538782" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Walk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">February on the narrow beach, 3o <br>A.M. I set out south. Cape Cod Light <br>on its crumbling cliff above me turns <br>its wand of light so steadily <br>it might be tolling a half-life, <br>it might be the second-hand <br>of a schoolroom clock, <br>a kind of blind radar. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">These bluffs deposited by glaaciers <br>are giving themselves away <br>to the beaches down the line, three <br>feet of coastline a year. I follow <br>them south at my own slow pace. <br>Ahead my grandfather died <br>in a boat and my father <br>found him and here I come. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I cleave to the base of the I berm <br>the offshore wind swirls grit <br>just over my head and the backwash <br>rakes it away. If I keep going <br>south toward my grandfatherís house <br>in Chatham, and beyond, <br>the longshore current grinds the sand <br>finer the farther I go. It spreads </div><div style="margin:10px 0">it wider and the beaches sift <br>inland as far as they can go <br>before beachgrass laces them down <br>for now. It gets to be spring, <br>I keep walking, it gets to be <br>summer. Families loll. <br>Now the waves are small; they keep <br>their swash marks close to home. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A little inland from the spurge <br>and sea-rockets my tan sons kick <br>a soccer ball north, against <br>grains that may once have been <br>compacted to sandstone, then <br>broken back to grains, bumbling <br>and driven and free again, <br>shrinking along the broadening edge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Matthews">William Matthews</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538782" data-title="A Walk de William Matthews" data-description="February on the narrow beach, 3o 
A.M. I set out south. Cape Cod Light 
on its crumbling cliff above me turns 
its wand of light so steadily 
it might be tolling a half-life, 
it might be the second-hand 
of a schoolroom clock, 
a kind of blind ra..."></div>
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