There’s a old cat sleeping
On the new moon tonight
It drools
Cold
Huddle’s under bed linen
Roused
Becomes
A moving wind break
For Sarah
Counting horseshoe crabs
High tide 3 am
With leaky chest waders
Failing flailing flashlights
Fiddlers under foot
She searches for bawdy
Body surfers
Bubbling at water’s edge
Ecstatic in the sand
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