Limen Marian Christie

Limen

sliding sun wavers a path across the sea which way does the tide pull? ripples on wet sand slice through your reflection shimmer it back not quite together foam laces your ankles draws you towards the calling waves

I want to fold my hands around you cradle you in my cupped palms past sea holly and marram grass to the shelter of the trees abide with you on sweet-scented earth listen a dove is calling

Marian Christie

(Previously published in The Amethyst Review)

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