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Sketch

by
 THE shadows of the ships
Rock on the crest
In the low blue lustre
Of the tardy and the soft inrolling tide.
A long brown bar at the dip of the sky Puts an arm of sand in the span of salt.
The lucid and endless wrinkles Draw in, lapse and withdraw.
Wavelets crumble and white spent bubbles Wash on the floor of the beach.
Rocking on the crest In the low blue lustre Are the shadows of the ships.

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