The Sound swept deep around the Point,
piles of driftwood
splayed like fingers
to the sky. White boats…
The Sound swept deep around the Point,
piles of driftwood
splayed like fingers
to the sky. White boats…
From the copse, the path climbed towards the road beside the farm.
Grass brushed his fingers, his steel bucket sloshed with clams
and sea water. All afternoon, he’d dug in the soupy charcoal sand,
while across…