The sea is unfolding at my feet, revealing small round pebbles that
blink in the sunlight and chatter as cold water flows between
Turnstones fly in formation, almost touching the waves. They land close
by, unafraid, and start their ceaseless search along the tide-line.
The posts of the old pier rise from the water. They remind me of
fingers, grasping for clouds.
I gaze out to sea, try to time my breathing with the breaking waves. I am
calm now. Later I'll close my eyes and return here.
the day’s debris