Today was the lowest low tide I have ever seen as I walked one local beach. Instead of pounding close in, the waves were way out there, leaving the sand to stretch out luxuriously. The huge black rocks that spend almost all their time underwater gleamed naked in the morning sun, except for several orange or purple sea stars, black and purple mussels clumped by the hundreds, and a few dark purple anenomes. Somehow this reminds me of a poem I wrote a long time ago about an actual dream. It goes something like this: Last night I dreamed I had no job but to be a red caterpillar. My long body stretched, hugging the wet earth, and I remember now as I wake in a hard bed the fear I didn’t feel.
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