Reflections in the Sand
I'm in reflection again
a rear window spy
in the solitude
of speechless silence
at this hour, we are a poem, a cloud, no,
prints in the sand, where we went
when us was awakening like the mercies of a brand-new morning.
Across the brown beach, tiptoed,
as burrowing crabs dived, evading the wading birds-
mostly egrets, and the tides flared their nostrils
with the fanfaronade of prissy white brides
vanishing our trail
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