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Updated: Dec 28, 2023

The ice-night has softened

and snow falls.


The ghosts of us,

(with hot coffee in expensive cups)

look beyond the breakers

to the line between sea and sky,

between paint daubed

and the slow, elegant dance

of a BMX bike.


There was that moment. This one. Others.

Floating like feathers.

Making their mark.

Wingbeats in the wind.

Tyre tracks in snow.

Snow angels in sand.

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