Felt the weather couldn't justify any other theme for this Thursday . . .
An inverse island of salt water
Sits shimmering under the cruel sun
Making a haven for skittering crabs
To tuck under wet rock and sand.
Movement dots across the tiny world
Lucky barnacles throw out their nets
To harvest the concentrated stew
Blinking like hungry Christmas lights.
Squatting anemones are pale coins
Scattered across the puddle bottom
Rising columns of bubbles betray
Others sheltered beneath the sand.
A group thrown together by fate
To eat or be eaten under the beating sun
Who will be left to live on after
The tide returns to rescue the marooned?