Sunday, November 25, 2007
At Wijk aan Zee
Three sisters carry buckets down to the sand where the seagulls flap and bully at the shore.
The youngest shouts and throws her bucket up.
The mother loses her place on the page.
The seagulls regroup and stand in packs.
The girls point at the wet in the sand.
A shore-break dazzles and rushes forward.
A gasp, and a hand is buried.
A jet ski plods over a song.
A moon is vaguer by the minute.
// posted by George Manka @ 11:14 AM 
