Stuart Rawlinson #40 - The Last View of Sea

there was a prize
for whoever saw it first
a dense blue sliver
between two low hills
at sea level, the water
chopped and fizzed
waves unable to hold
together under the
moon's duress. eyes
squinted in a golden
glare of not-quite-real
sand. hair matted
in the salty air
backs turned, towels
shaken, the wide open
expanse narrowed
like clock hands
reaching for noon