Whose are the choices
about sitting together on the beach
counting pebbles and the advancing waves
before they very quickly recede and fade
into simple plain surfaces, that very soon again
throw up mighty and menacing poses, asking them
to run fast back to safe and pleasant shades of rest
and before they, at times, take long and unpredicted
lengths of time to reappear in dancing rhythmic
curled balls of surf to break against the sandy shore?
Certainly, without them having to make
conscious and concrete choices in any complex ways,
these waves, this sea, its shore, the pleasant blue sky,
the soft soothing breeze conspired in definite
untracked ways to call them to make
these awkward and efficient choices to
join voices and views together.
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