The Sand Raker

Apropos of nothing, notice the shadow cast by the raker, very curious.

                    The Sand Raker

                 I believe I could be
                    a raker of sand.
                  My rake would be 
                    two feet across
               and made of bamboo.
               It could be plastic too
            but not orange or yellow.
            It would be a flexible one,
              of course, not the rigid,
           unbending ones with little
            stabbing fingers of steel.
        They are fine and necessary
                 for stone work but
                    we are in sand,
            and having the right tool
                 for the job is a joy,
                      if not forever,
                 then at least a day.

      My first pass's desire is twofold;
      remove debris and knock down
    sand mounds made by footprints.
                   To the antlion
      they are insurmountable dunes
      and I would make his life easier
                      with one pull
               of my tan rake which,
                    when the sun
           and my efforts warm it up,
            smells like dense grass.

                     I rake and rake,
          tirelessly for nearly an hour
               and my patch of sand,
               smaller than I planned,
   looks exquisite and shall remain so
       unless pigeons come through,
 strutting and kicking sand everywhere,
                 the very epitome 
                of the beach bully.