the beach is empty
the ones there staring at their phones

instead of the
remarkable grey sky
streaks of sunshine
the almost silent
lapping of the tide

walkers abandoned
children indulged

insects dying
in the shade
eggs laid
job done

even with the one boom
box blasting

quiet
empty

August 13

a hole in the sand
a yellow flag breeze
whipping
the tide sideways


babies playing
my forearms
the only
exposure


cheeks secure
against the sand

August 19