Paragraph, 1 February

(Maybe best read as a prose poem?)

"Everyone smells of the earth, barefooted, walking from the water with the sun doming us a yellow hemisphere washed over the bright blue half-globe, and behind them the water groans at the loss of enthusiastic limbs laughing in its waves and spilling red canoes from its banks to tip in the kelpy, fishy center like hilarious thieves--everyone smells of the earth, breathless and barefoot and drying as we move through the coarse sand paths, grass between our toes and laughter smeared on our faces."