Ocean Beach on 8/31

The sand--fine array of glittery dust
through my hand,
in my mouth a sugar grain.
Evidence of last night's bon-fire
excavated like archaeological finds, reflecting the sun's
warm beam a black metal
smooth to the touch
and light on the hand.
Driftwood--aimless on the
body of sand,

fullstops

on the sandscape
for the eye to pause on.


Treasures, thrown up by the sea
fill my pockets
as I head home
hair thoroughly combed
(as I keep my balance in the carpet sand)
by the persistent breeze.