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
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