Seated Sands


She sits on warm, coarse sand.

The in-between


land meets water


waves gently lap at toes.

The sand, an exfoliant to tired feet,


the sun

a melting disc floating on the horizon.

The tide

rises imperceptibly.

Sitting on the warm, coarse sand, the days heat slowly gives way to the cool night.

The in-between: land and sea and sky.

In between the physical and spiritual.

The decision making.

The colours of the setting sun dance and flit on gentle waves.

Tired feet, lapped by hungry waves.


A pause to simplify. To meditate.

There are no expectations here.

Soak in the salty air. Bask in the dusk.

In a world of fasts. I need to go slow.



  1. Andi
    April 28, 2017 / 12:28 PM

    I need more of this. LOVE. Love. love.

    • Julia
      April 28, 2017 / 9:13 PM

      Aw, thanks Andi for your LOVE!

  2. Jo ~ Beyond the Lamp Post
    April 19, 2017 / 12:39 PM

    This poem is lovely Julia. You’re very talented!

    • Julia
      April 19, 2017 / 9:57 PM

      Thanks Jo for the lovely compliment!

  3. Jane
    April 12, 2017 / 7:18 AM

    Its the place between the garden and the wall or the twilight before the dawn. Thank you for this breath of memory of the place that this is.

    • Julia
      April 12, 2017 / 8:02 PM

      Pure poetry Jane. I really like the imagery you conjure, “…between the garden and the wall…”. Beauty!

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