From far away,
the kids become silhouettes,
sand crabs
digging in the surf,
dried out dune grass,
strangers,
glimmering clumps,
washed up seashells,
squatters.
The beach aged overnight.
Scoliosis shoreline,
the seagulls, wrinkles
in the forehead’s thin sky,
greying temples,
a receding tidemark,
collapsed dunes of
loose, sagging sand.
I cup a few grains for a moment
before breezes
strip them from my hands.
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