Curling wisps
of shiney wet
whip-like grasses
smell of salt marsh, swamp,
dead fish and flies.
Slightly sweet, still winds whisper -
'the ocean lives just the other side of the
sharp, tall, cutting grasses and light grey - sometimes white sand hills'.
The tiniest insects hike the hills of sand
digging, tunnelling,
disappearing under the sand,
still able to breathe.
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