Walking the Boards

We speak in waves
over particles of breath,
briny breathing,
this boardwalk holds up
more than it will tell.

It’s the simple words
in solid greens, gray blues,
the color of sand after it rains,
it’s these that endure
in the moon’s wake.  Without

a single word, we still could
talk as we walk,
tide coming in,
using the language
hidden in the dunes.

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