damp sand, windy hooping

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An afternoon on damp sand
a brisk wind, hair in a honeyed bun
the crashing of waves, coral toes
by the sea ~ red linen pants
(everybody needs a pair of red pants)
the terns darting down for a briny sip
swallowing and shaking off drops
in mid-air, like a dog does,
and the horizon pulling and forming,
pouring and retreating.

*taken by tim