By the surf, a mussel shell
wedged into wet sand, edge-up.
Someone could cut their foot on that,
I thought, and turned it flat,
while behind me the entire beach
rippled with mussel shells.
a literary journal published by the Black Earth Institute dedicated to re-forging the links between art and spirit, earth and society
By the surf, a mussel shell
wedged into wet sand, edge-up.
Someone could cut their foot on that,
I thought, and turned it flat,
while behind me the entire beach
rippled with mussel shells.
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