Sand Fleas Thrum surf, rumble our roof, Strain across each grain Of pounded sand, Our spiky legs clutching, Touching land. Splendorous translucency, Protected from the sun, From each probing beak, Bare feet passing bare inches away. We, crouching, safety seek. Moonlight’s magic summons us To dance across the rich-laid Table of the ebbing tide, Consume abundance, Then return to hide. #NaPoWriMo