Seaside

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Laced up my running shoes, left phone on desk,

Determinedly took those extra kilos for a disciplinary jog,

Thirty minutes later I find myself walking, wet-shoed,

Calves flicked with damp sand. Watching waves pull at gravel,

Rocks gleam reflected light, seashells swoosh in seaweed,

Slanted sunlight on water, The Bridge rises from mist,

Carrying a twisted stick of driftwood, a dog’s lost rope-toy

And a reminder of what a difference salt water makes.

.

Nyborg 2017

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