Strawberry sands
We trace
circles, convoluted,
listen
to the secret songs of shells,
this
spoken word of the sea
whispering.
We pick at seaweed,
khaki green
clumps, crab legs,
stinking
out this wealth of sand.
I pause
on a solitary strawberry,
artistic
licence perched, saucy red,
and
wonder who styled it there,
this natural
drop of litter,
challenging
all the coastal colours
out loud
to raise their game.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, October 8, 2020
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