A ruffled cormorant was drying its wings
as for me, I was digging in the sand with my toes,
and you were chewing on a twig,
another one, over there, was looking for gold in the sand,
in other words, he was feeding on hope
then it started to rain
finding my balance
between day and night
flexibility and stiffness
the movement of water
and the reassurance of wood
moving forward like on a wire
not looking ahead
to avoid vertigo
*put online in April 2021, edited in 202
Un blog experimental voue a la poesie du quotidien sous toutes ses formes/An experimental blog devoted to poetry in all its forms
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