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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The Shadow People of the Beach

I am watching
shadow people on the beach.
They live in shells,
peek from rocks.
They have salt hats
and thin eyes of light.
Little voices
that sometimes roar
in the waves delight.
They look like crabs
when the sun recedes,
pewter spoons
when the moon comes up.
They have tiny hands
that feel your toes,
and tickle the bottom
of your feet.

The Irish have elves,
China, their dragons,
Indians,
the voice of spirits
exchanging news
around campfire dances.
But the beach
is a special place
where shadow people live,
with stories of millennia,
and songs
that sing for years,
when I hear them
in the dunes,
in a place
where the ocean
falls away,
except in shells
holding shadow peoples’ dreams.

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