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Clumps of mosses of unexpected softness, riots of
mushrooms, fist-wide or thread-thin, whole
worlds of dripping. Curving path and then,
broken open: the sky, the sea, our brittle hearts.
Flock of sparrows lifting lightly, silk in breeze,
tiny gelatinous tendrils littering beach,
seafoam blowing: icebergs, then clouds, then
meringue. The dog skitters after sand pipers, foam,
runs circles, lopes toward a dead seal beached,
gaping, rib cage now scaffolding picked bird-clean.
High clean sky and yellow grasses, I am this seal
split open, purplish glimmering; I am this wide sky, clouds
breaking, mirrored in slick sand shimmering; I am this dog
running full out, for sheer joy of wind, for kick of sand,
for rough circles returning again and again
to sea, to foam, to bird, to us.