No. 63 Beach

 

Atlantic air shifting waves

rustling the shore line

sifting

through coconut trees

where they stalk the beach

I sit alone

on a broken branch

breathing

Corentyne sands

watching seined men

gathering shrimps and fishes

as waves caress the sand

and recede

like a satisfied lover

look how frail crabs

shuttle about

in no particular direction

I rest my water coconut

between my legs

and cap my eyes

to peer at the horizon

with a rising sun

chasing shadows

where critters cannot sleep.

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