On Sanibel Island, I shoved my feet into the heavy sand
within the water’s reach. The waves dug foamy fingertips
into the beach, culling stones and shells from land.
I bent to see them, pink and smooth, like almonds dipped
in candy coating. I gasped when they moved. The shells swam
down, dotting the sand with their penmanship.
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2 comments:
Perfect.
K.
Your poem is all light and lovely and pink and melt in your mouth. It is a nice balance to the dark chocolatey weight of the photograph.
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