Broken Shell, Wrightsville Beach, NC
The sun awakens,
but is still not visible,
on the horizon.
Sojourners shelling,
as the eastern sky glows red,
and the tide recedes.
Shore birds chase the waves,
foraging in the sea foam,
as shells are exposed.
Lone footprints ahead,
leaving the tossed and broken,
gathering whole shells.
As I walk behind,
searching for imperfection,
gathering flawed shells.
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