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Sawgrass riptide, silicate crystals smeared across my toes,

the pressed down deepened holes in the burning white,

where I run down to the harder pressed darker expanse of shallow sea.

 

There are gulls on the edges vision, screeching, diving, salty spray of feathers,

darting, running, scattering sandpipers leave tiny scratches on the hard-packed sandy horizon.

crushed bits of shell, tossed up to my cool twisting toes by the urgent surf, a gift of shattered pearlescent debris.

EJH