retracing steps washed out by whimpering silt they call as I approach, an upright spelk on their shelf,
gathering my notes and theirs we scavenge ahead of our shadows waiting for what the tide brings in or leaves out
77 | WINTER MIGRANTS
retracing steps washed out by whimpering silt they call as I approach, an upright spelk on their shelf,
gathering my notes and theirs we scavenge ahead of our shadows waiting for what the tide brings in or leaves out
77 | WINTER MIGRANTS