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Beaches on my mind
by Dee Walmsley
beaches, golden brown sugar splashed along the landscape rippled with
black streaks of lava rock. Violent
beaches, ever-changing scenes as boiling waves crash their shores then
leave, sucking up all in its wake like a gigantic straw, tasting the brew
and spitting it out, over and over and over.
waters, constantly batter soft curving sand cliffs, alter the shimmering
silica with each pounding. Surfers
catch their wave and ride the seas like broncos in a ring.
children, equipped with rubber band sling-shots race along the sands,
snagging translucent crabs for the waiting soup pot.
grey, cold water washes the shoreline on
breasts dot the landscape, nippled peaks reaching upwards as bathers
stretch their bronze bodies presenting themselves to the golden sun on the
a moonscape, the grey sand of the Canadian west coast stretches on,
speckled with puddles, marred with the cavities of clams, sea worms and
children's sand castles, she waits. Her
lunar clock keeps ticking. When the pendulum swings, so does
her tide and her waters return. Puddles
slowly fill their buried treasure and surface to play on the ocean floor.
Crabs, clams, mussels and a variety of wigglies
greet the sun warmed water, as it washes over them, on its timeless
the coast the white sands are constantly shifting with the rolling surf
while the air is filled with ocean spray and pine.
tide is in, filling the air with the smells of seaweed, sand, and
seawater, to some a stench, to a British Columbian, home.
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