under hanging grey haired skies
the soon to be sand clumped between our toes
brown water
from across the world swirled around your fingers, foamy
remnants of lost mermaids.
upon reds and blacks and browns and a slight
twinkling of broken green we could sit for hours
dragging ourselves through drifted bits of tree and strands of sea grass
we’d grow new legs to walk on water, the browned cliffs which
tell stories of age would record us, tally your cheeks, my
overabundant self , the self contained seriousness of
“look mummy look” finger pointed ever upward.
in the sky flies a dappled gull, fittingly, squalling. we watch as the tide slowly
lowers itself back onto our rocky silent beach.
I may forget this tomorrow. We cling to dusted sea glass and basalt today
just to make sure.
Spin Me I Pulsate 
Beautiful. I especially love the “foamy remnants of lost mermaids”.
i love ‘hanging gray haired skies’…i picture an old woman, hair limp and sagging from what should have been a bun.
i also love Joggins…but i think it rains there every day.
ah, but that’s what’s so wonderful about Joggins.
Fell in love with Parrsboro-as we drove up the road, the blueberry fields around us swelled into hills drunk in fog-it was one of the most incredible sights I have seen.
Anyone want to pay a blogger to live in Parrsboro, I’m there.