In the hours of the tide’s chill retreat
the bubbler crabs redraw the atlas.

Pearls of sand spread and reach in strands
the length of the beach,
agreeing the coastlines of new continents,
tracking minute deltas and dotted bays,
pricking out the contours
of mountain chains, the bare veins of rivers,
and featureless oceans
on parching, windswept foundations.

Twice daily the sea sweeps
its quick, careless palm over creation.

Read the rest of Overland 239

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