Whimbrel calling across Prisk, sound of spring, hope, winter ending. Gathering seaweed in rock pools. Reds, rich silk ribbons, rags and feather plumes. Green light layers and amber sheets. Yellow ochre curves. Burnt umber creases hiding crabs and wriggling fish. Turning stones things scuttle away from the light. Slow moving tide lapping, taking time. I take time.
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