The sands tell tales of arduous tracks
of long, lumbering earthy strides;
there are those before me

who have pressed
the sand with leaden burdens
and dragging

the prints of souls unsatisfied.
Then there are

the pitter tracks
of ducks going in for a splash;
crisscrossing the sand

retracing steps
doubling back.
With minds of silk

and sunshine dreams
they pitter to shores for a bath.

In all of our human complexity
we trudge—
guilty, assumed

unsatisfied souls leaving labored prints.
For the silk
and the sunshine

and the round-about ways,
the duck dips quick
and light.

The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my mine:

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