I felt the sea on my pulse,
the salt in my brunette,
pebbles underfoot,
the net dragging me.
I felt the familiar ebb and flow,
close to shore,
tippy-toes.
The coconut permeates the dawn,
its scent infiltrating,
its oils reverberating.
I feel the palms bending low,
so low I can touch
their feather fronds;
and fronts clashing.
First drops of the storm,
so tender-pitter-patter,
light thunder,
soft lightning.
Nearby volcano erupting,
you think I’m...
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