caves created by surfs
are showing at low tide
barnacles set water level
sharp edges, water drips
my eyes follow; it burst
to tiny droplets, vanish
seabird poking her beak
into shallows; taking chances
seaweeds still fresh from roots
i can smell saltwater freshness
as mist come sweeping shore
doesn't let me to see everything
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem