Where I am matters not as much as where as where I come from. You may have found me now, a sea-green and shining bottle floating in the froth, laboriously sighed out in high tide, but my journey has been long.
The sun burns gold through orange to red.
Bodies emerge from the ocean
giggling, dragging themselves from waves to rocks
and back to waves,
before finally allowing the milky shallows
that reflect the burning sun
until the blue-grey turns to marbled shades of umber
to abide to a rhythm all of their own.