I associated them with terraced houses

to protect from the gaze of passers by,

or suburban semis

occupied by those who had moved on

taking the old tradition with them.

I did not expect to find them

hanging on the beach.

No fishermen’s nets these,

but the finest gossamer

like a spiders web


the beach life in a mist

like fallen clouds

shrouding it

in life

and death.


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