As I arrive, only gulls screech
Circling abandoned sands
Hopelessly hoping
For a small hand with bread
Their screeching falls
On a sheet of silence
Eerie and later golden
Rocks basking in grey
Or sunlight, rain or thunder
Saved from the soles
Of last year’s shoes
Or a picnic hamper
Littered with litter
Debris and forgotten manners
Quiet unnerves
At the edge of an ocean
Of opportunity
The shore footprint
Bare, untouched
Polished not scuffed
By hurried feet.
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