Sea Grapes

Sea grapes grow here, tangled in roots of sand, pressed by the sea, breaking the silence, crashing the patterns over and over, tiny green bumps made small blankets, a layer against the breeze.

I see how the waves admire round shapes, strung together in a line, slipping away but knowing they surge back; the moon counts the moments sand scratches against skin, restores the body to nature without apology.

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