Glance – shape, colour are right. But there are hours, days, years, eternities still to go on this walk.
Should I collect all that Cley beach says is here for now? As love in lust begins, or wait until possession becomes real?
How to keep the start of the walk feeling the lightness of my step through to the very end of me.
Perfect pebble, and this, and this, the walk is young and my arm stops before it picks up because I must carry all this weight back.
I walk, touch, feel, just enough to make the walk smooth and not too much to make it burdensome.
Entire years in the walk’s expanse I pass until there is a breeze, a harbinger of autumn, the beginning has ended.
Pockets full of pebbles mean it is time to go home, weighed down towards a return to solitude and skyless city life
Experience banked and life renewed.
To move to beyond beginnings to what we will be.
Dadhood 