Friday


A minus tide is a special thing. A short moment when the oceans pulls back her curtains and you see the treasures that lie beneath. The sand shines in the sun as the water retreats back into itself and mirrors reflect the sky.


   Grassy skirts of hidden rocks lose their flow and lay silent, motionless and shining.    



    Bulbs full of buoyancy lose effect and wait, tangled in piles.



Tidal pools are discovered. Moss and algae slip underfoot. The sun feeds the rocks and they simply shine back through a salty haze those retreating waves throw up. Tumbled and dull, pitted and round: rocks, glass, sunglasses and tin cans. Shells, fish, crabs, anemone, and bricks.


Thousands of feet of fresh, unexplored sand, wide walking beaches, gulls clustered and up in the air; all laid out before young, imaginative, in the moment eyes. This is an afternoon begged for and rare.


Running legs, wet feet, jumping, splashing, laughing, falling, running and running and running. 

A minus tide is a special thing indeed.

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