Les plus lus ▸
Sea Levels
low tide
we comb the ancient peat
for footprints
drowned forest
the gull’s cry turns eldritch
undead stumps
4000 years later
sprout bladderwrack
our shared excitement
at scraps of root-bark
seaside town
all the colors of ice cream
against the Atlantic
the high street is already
lower than the beach
Tisha B’Av just past