11-26-2025, 07:22 PM
So much has been written, it is a cliche,
this poem about a beach
in 1788. Men in birch bark canoes
chasing after turtles,
women mollusc hunting, and children
playing in the sand dunes
looking for crabs,
shells,
leaping dolphins.
But it is the sails
that will grow familiar.
this poem about a beach
in 1788. Men in birch bark canoes
chasing after turtles,
women mollusc hunting, and children
playing in the sand dunes
looking for crabs,
shells,
leaping dolphins.
But it is the sails
that will grow familiar.