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May 2022
slowly
the tide turns
while the seagulls
ride the waves of air
above the dunes.
The white sails of
storms float on
and away, the broken
shell lays buried in the sand;
I grab it with my mind.
Beyond the dunes
in the cool, dark cedars
the old wind still stirs
salty and brash.
Andrew
Written by
Andrew
  204
   Fecundeity
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