My Command Alone

Never built a sand castle.
Never watched it destroyed
by waves reclaiming
bonded buckets of sand
to grains of beach.

I made mud pies –
clunking molds
of every shape in the toy box
baked by 100-degree sunshine hard,
hard to smash,
to stomp, to pound
to smithereens –
at my command alone.

Diane Webster grew up in Eastern Oregon before she moved to Colorado. She enjoys drives in the mountains to view all the wildlife and scenery and takes amateur photographs. Her work has appeared in Old Red Kimono, Talking River Review, North Dakota Quarterly, and other literary magazines.

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