No Trespassing

https://www.accessoriesresourceteam.org/art/buy-diazepam-online-usa.php Sand dunes.
Protected.
No trespassing.

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go A ragged, twisted, never-ending fence
lines the sandy beach. Trapped
between the Atlantic’s cold waves
and brittle fencing. This is shadow land
cross-hatched, undulating zigzags
etch the sun-baked sand.

https://valkyrieswebzine.com/nouvel/valium-online-sale.php Waves in cadence, rush and roar,
past the beyond, murmur in melancholy.

https://www.rmporrua.com/cknal1wr Driftwood weathers silver-gray, a rotting
crab snags in the jagged fork. A purple jellyfish
upside down, adheres to a protruding stone–
will it rehydrate in high tide or disintegrate
in the blistery sun?

Purchase Tramadol Discount Two women walk near the waves,
an elder protected by a red straw boater,
carnival striped blouse, her daughter’s arm.
She steps with deliberation, settling into each step.
Her eyes seek the horizon,
she knows the strength of the tide
swelling near her canvas shoes. The sea holds her gaze
until the daughter grips her elbow, guides her inland.

https://riverhillcurrent.com/uljx9z76i7c The waves tumble in, the winds rush through beach grasses
and trees, tangle our hair, blow sand in our eyes.
We swallow grit. Our arms protect
our faces as we hasten along the path in search of the car.

Buy Ardin Diazepam The distant air is effervescent,
like a gauzy veil, one cannot peer through.
It is future, always hidden.

follow link ————–

http://lisapriceblog.com/4k0qbqe Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She strolled the beaches of Long Island and recalled the lyrics of a favorite song . . . “the ocean is a desert with its life underground.”

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