well when it rains in my country (ah ... to have such a tree and gather leaves inhale their power press them to my heart) and at the beach i look for glimpses of the pink shell lips that would hold my music pulsing mixing salts in quilted mirrorpools in the sunglitterred sand crabs scuffle through the reeds in bloodwarm ankledeep minnows turn like sequinshadows beneath reflected clouds and softsand ridges squish skoosh against my soles tide turns and the scent of wind cry of gulls and we runsplash to the shore past sandcastles snowangels stickworlds arranged in accidental harmony our footprints momentarily ringed with dry then puddled flat lines sketched with toes and sticks explain the universe describe our hearts for our eyes only and the sea washes over making maybe from forever