The air is warm, the cool breeze
chills, the sea swells. Surf's up -
tide's high enough for the crash of waves; low though, so the roll
and drag conundrums the beach. Sea's coming in, stones polished,
shells broken; mountains become sand - gangs of parrots
shell pine-cones, a flock of gulls caw and a herd
of speckled beach towels don't budge an inch.
2007
edit
Motion
#BLM Movement 05/2020
Lockdown
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