The end of the ocean licks the land,
salt fingers idle townward,
chortling shingle laughs into
new born pools shattering
a thousand iridescent suns
into faceted frenzy.
Seaweed ambassadors inspect
The beach on spume horses
But today is calm
Yesterday, some tsunami or
Savage Gods incandescent rage
turned you tiger and
towered you townward maiming
terrified beach huts
murdering screaming deckchairs
hurling delinquent shingle at
dark hollow eyed cafes
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