A cloud drifts calf high from
The approaching snake of dry
Sand rising from the beach;
In sudden bursts it nips up
And bites your face before
Gently settling behind you.
You take the opposite direction,
Into town, and follow only
Coasts that warn of their approach.
Over tidy inclines and in and
Out of little stores; leaving as
The shore resolves its business.
Up rising steps eroded by
The wear of generations old
Approval, until home arrives;
A little caravan of privacy
Where youth can find the
Time to age in peace.
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