I brought my list of worries
to the water,
folded small enough
to fit inside my shirt pocket.
The tide was busy
with other things,
a shell, a ribbon of kelp,
the slow uncovering of stones.
I sat until the damp
came through my leggings.
A heron lifted one foot,
then put it down again.
There was no message
written in the sand.
Still, when I stood,
I left my shoes off
for the walk back.
