Sand

After torrential rain, a river
the colour of long-brewed tea. Damp air sparkles.
Everywhere, prints from Sunday walkers —
the slats and grilles of track shoes precise as
trilobite moulds; the claw-tipped impress of
dog paws; cleft hoops from a cantering horse.
Worm trails cover sunlit acres — old skin
stretched and shining. Water drained from rock studs
has shaped, with Art Nouveau elegance,
a leaf inscaped with buds. Around crab holes
globes cast dark ovals. Seaweed fans out —
the black and maroon hair of drowned mermaids.
A scratch on sapphire, a yellow plane burrs
above us — moving, shadowed mounds.