The weak light of sun penciled on the beach in burnt orange

Softly the waves splash on the beach drawing abstract patterns

Most of the birds were being to their shelter; few left were on the way

The rain had stopped; the wet beach had been extended deep in the beach.

The sand that I grasped were neither yellow nor a shade of it; it’s actually a lump

The small shells, herbs, splinters of polished once abstract pebbles

Were the components; I looked at the horizon; there were clouds

The weak light of sun penciled on the beach in burnt orange