the beach, the wind and I’m hunched over trying to wipe a grain from my eye weeping, weeping its own good sense to wash out the offender can’t see, too bright the sun a misery speck its very own kind grain now granule now pebble as stinging grows windbreaker pulled high against the stiff wind I stumble to the car spill my pack, sifting its contents palm the small bottle solace and soothe to flush out the sand
Ooooo... "a misery speck..." So good I'd pay for that!
Thank you!