Skirting her shore, her firs and a forest
green shawl drapes the island down to red arbutus shins, the shoals her toes dip in the squall-kissed sea. In the deep crevice of her soul, a cove swarms with minnows like memories through tangles of kelp and weeds shifting with time. Starfish cling still to stones like hope in the roil. With each wave falling down her face she exhales, casting off detritus gathered from seasons of storms, then swills another healing cordial from the inexorable swell.
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