Canvas

I could be air, sculpting shapes in the sand as I pass

The grains shift and collapse, their movement almost inaudible

Just a shimmer

I drift with the sand, leaving no trace behind me, except my temporary print

It won’t last long, it too will pass,

Becoming another print, another shape, a result of another

All of separate, yet all of us familiar

Passing from one to another, creating the shapes we leave behind us

All the grains, becoming one,

Stretching out into our canvas.