As A Finger Moves It Poem by James McLain

i watch as
water gently washing sand
morning wake of foam
sun even
feet gliding through 'puffs' wind up with
the down
she leans over, she leans down
picking the weeds of green from her toes
turning the sea/i see
waving a visit, muscles invisible, the sea is in motion.
A young woman on the beach osprey graceful
as her longest finger taps white thin face
drawn upon wound around
between each salty leaf
untill it 'S.