Camping, Sand Lake

No lake

This child of Ocean

Breathes deeply every tide

Here is my peace

In shades of brown and blue

The year half-spent

My footprints trace the beach

Water-fingers whisper

And creep across the sand

It will fill tonight

Make a mirror for the moon

And slip into the sea by dawn

The fire burns low

I leave my tent flap open

I cannot bear to miss a breath


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Ode to my Squishmallow

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Slow Autumn