Folded beneath white caps
shards of pink crystals stack in layers.
Tendrils clinging to the sea bed loosen their grip,
snared in waving sea oats, stranded in the dunes.
A melon sun climbs down the horizon.
Distant apparitions bob out of sight,
seafaring specters that vanish in the haze.
Seagulls hover between the sea and sky,
dipping their wings in the watery mirror,
diving for treasure riding in on white horses.
Their throaty caws console the lonely sea.