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Sea Glass

Betsy Holleman Burke

When the stain of dawn releases me from sleep

I seek the empty beach beyond the dunes.


Alone on flat, white sand, red colors the sky

Mirrors the water. A kaleidoscope of color expands.


Blue and green sea glass glistens, invites me into the shallows.

Gentle waves wash in, erase my dreams, slip out, tug me


Toward the horizon, a rhythm old as earth, as breath.

Salt air expands my lungs, fills my heart. I am a granule


Mica-flecked, a tiny part with sandpipers, periwinkles

I long to be a dolphin, flashing.

This poem was published in Front Porch Review


Photo Taken by Henry Brown

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