Sand Ripples

I run to a far edge of foam
Too distant to be heard.
Hard ribs of sand
Cramp my bare feet.
Shaped by the means
And in the image
Of incoming water,
These rigid ripples
Echo in perfect miniature
The ebb and flux of sea.

I had forgotten
The unceasing, intricate pattern
Of advancing water,
Cadence of breaking foam.
But here, under my wincing feet,
The fossil waves remember
And record.