Tuesday, May 4, 2010

wild beach

She runs circles on the shoreline, in an unflinching bubble of her own existence.

Oblivious to the brutal beating of the surf, she flits in. And out. Never venturing deeper than her ankles. Occasionally she drops to her belly, kicking the fresh air vigourously, rising by chance to narrowly avoid consumption by the incoming wave.

Her timing is accidental, yet impeccable. How does she do it?

Those watching for waves out in the deep, seem unable to maintain such fortune. In contrast, they are unhinged by the water's violence, dumped as they are, wave upon wave.

Yet this slight pink figure in perpetual frolic, dances in danger's face, with not so much as a glance in its direction.

Keeping her own counsel. Teasing the ocean. Daring it to break its rhythm so to unsettle hers.

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