January 24, 2017
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White caps crash in.
To erase the prints.
Many walk water's edge
sand between toes.
Carrying the beach away.
Seagulls squawking at one another,
While children chase.
With childlike whimsical wonder
For the gulls chaos.
The salty smell of the air, mottled
by human presence.
The magnificent white coast
destroyed, by leavings
Of them.
As dusk sets in the oaky smell of burning logs.
Overruns the fresh salty air.

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