Sting

Sting Strolling along the sandy beach The tide is far and away I cannot glance into the sky, so blue and bright that day Lit upon the grainy sands Sucking from below Quenching the tiniest of thirsts, just along the row My sandals left behind For a lovely natural abrasion Callouses aside by a softer, watery fashion Camouflage and coloring While sipping sweet relief There is no buzzing from below, or as I place my feet The sounds I make that crack the heat While hopping all around Come forth from the tiniest of beasts, who simply defends its ground