when the morning leaks
across the sand
--when turquoise water
leaves behind a baby sand dollar
and no one else is there to find it--
Walking with coffee
when the sun first curves
across the sign
at Seagrove Market
Passing Dogwood
and Azalea—
lanes of live oaks
scattering shadow and light
(like a sun-feather boa
flipping
across
my chest)
Waiting on bare feet
for Sundog Books
to yawn awake
and let me in…
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