On a beach track at Two Rocks, a stone;

its lime weighs down the sudden

minute. I watch sand swarm like bees

that I once saw in a market town.

They sent people running into buildings

for keys to lock their windows,

some woman with a goose was saying

just because they’re stripy

doesn’t mean they are robbers. Honey

bees covered the back of my shirt,

tangled in my hair, me not seeing much

caught in that apoidean storm.

Still the sand spirals against my legs,

its rough manner of being

stings me into knowing again that cut

grass from the old lawn mower

spitting at me as it passed beside the path

chalked in squares and numbers.

Now the swarming grit stops mid flight

a thousand little engines stalling

at my feet. A specimen of limestone rock

its interior carved out like a hive,

the walls lined with tiny cavities, a nest

abandoned, as if the sand had wings.

Image: Pebbles / flickr