Tidal

Grey to grey

suction,

space

where two tides

meet,

shingle:

gulls hover

like

ancient pterodactyl.

*

This improbable

moment

hung with

intent.

We shimmer

in the morning

stretching shaky

wings.

See the shine

at midday

omnipotent

golden:

I’m fading here

in twilight

a slow

insouciant

flicker;

embers in

the evening

always the same

return:

silver to silver.

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