the sand
dark grey and wet like mud
as the sky cried
a little overboard
the mist descended
round the crooked evergreens
giving them a regal shape
like kings
though i was cold i felt alive
suddenly
my purpose had come back
the driftwood
i was sitting on
was slick
where tides had carved it out
and softly over all these tiny grains
the hermit crab crawled sideways
never a home of it's own
carrying someone else's shell
alone
and tidepools
where the purple starfish lie
anenomes like undulating hair
stroking water
eating tiny particles
to keep themselves alive
and barnacles so hard
with those soft feather tongues
trawling in their catch
before the tide
pulls out
again
i share this solitary memory
with one
who sees
the moon is calling for the shape
to change again
as waves perform
the constant lick and pull
the rolling sea
reclaims it's
one and only shore
