Wind on tide, shifting and sorting shingle on strand Sand shifts, silt sails, each to its site sieved to its size Tide retreats, leaves trophies of detritus in honor of Nike Idling next come couples picking pebbles skipped the day before Fat wood, bull like lines the littoral pushed not yet pulled again adrift Ice recedes ten thousand years to come again in another ten or not at all Jumbled, fumbled, abraded, at every point and twice a day, we live ashore
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