In Maine, snow and salt bleach the dunes.
Arctic air dyes the sky deep blue.
The wind and tide sculpt ripples across Popham Beach.
Sand changes color from dry to wet to frozen.
The scale is a matter of perception.
The topography ebbing.
Tides drag stones across a canvas to paint trees.
Submerged, the beach is a mirror.
Uncovered, it is surreal.
The landscape is my museum.
I’m a curator, a witness, a muse.