So small

So small in the scheme of things

and in so deep a hole.

Yet these grains of sand

trickle and flow, 

tinier than tiny fingers

through which they flow.
On a beach they have no voice

no single-grained eloquence;
in my sock they shout and scream

a playground of children

with such clamour and din.

And on the morrow 

tide and wind will sweep away 

the hole of today

rearrange the grains

for new imaginings

new castles of hope

from so small a thing.