Slow glow

a tanka string

over the edge of the water
day’s end in fire
with canons of silvery power
emptying the beach
from my shoe

in the morning dew
only the stone smell remembers
washed skies –
drops of laughter
of summer rain

squares in rainbow rows
beach huts dotting the edge
water melts into sky
winds swinging past
white foam on my toes

eyes drift away
to the bright horizon
water on cold fingers…
after the holiday
sand in my pocket

• Autumn in Brighton, VIC