Our flight is canceled, she writes from across the country, and there's no one to take the dogs. You get dressed in the late evening, emerge into the world you shut out when the numbers spiked again, wrap your lungs in so many masks, the puppies devour your bottomless love, you see the grains of sand run out from the cracks in your hour glass, but what is it compared to the beaches we've already lost in the last two years?
There's no use trying to scoop the shores back into your pockets.
Choose to be the ocean
instead.
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