The sea at its brimming, the sea at its best. A child invents a wave; its mercy at her splashing, yet it roars.
She makes sandslop, spreads it on her feet. She plants herself, but in the waves, she shifts. She demarcates invasions.
She fashions a disc and uses it to start a dance.
“That’s not how you start a dance,” he tells her.
“It is too, I’ll show you,” she says, leaving pools as she steps.