Sandalfoot

Drop a line home by scribble,
Open the sliding door
And steal to the beach,

Zagging over over broken shells, bottles
And wind-swayed fences.

Tide-chasing-water-mongrels frolic low.
Dancing along the shore as it drives
To and fro – wind-wing Lord-Blessers,
Chowder lingerers dig for dinner,

Invading their privacy, but they will have
No part of it. My wonderbagful
Of breadcrumbs waits
For smarter birds downshore.