Sand sweeps my world,

teasled by a froth of lacy sea

bubbling into shallows.

Busy insects burrow through gold grains,

blowing spurts of debris

high towards the sun.

Latticed shadows, hanging

from dry nets, form

a chequer-boards for

side-winding crabs.

Sand-pipers twitch their tails

strutting through ripples,

stirring tumbled sand.

I strum wet pockets

with my bare feet.

I scare the crabs.

I run.

I sing.

This world is mine

for splashing

watching

dreaming.

Mine - just mine.

and not a soul in sight.