Somewhere between the wave’s rise
and its folding back into itself,
I felt the salt change weight in my hands.
The water no longer blurred the edges — threads began to show through the foam, knots glinting like shells in the shallows.
I was still wet with the reading,
but already leaning toward the loom, ready to watch the weaving happen.
.
Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 2:59 PM UTC
Somewhere between the wave’s rise
and its folding back into itself,
I felt the salt change weight in my hands.
The water no longer blurred the edges — threads began to show through the foam, knots glinting like shells in the shallows.
I was still wet with the reading,
but already leaning toward the loom, ready to watch the weaving happen.
.
